


Hold Me Tight (Or Don't)

by tegary



Series: A Bottled Star [1]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Intersex Loki, Jötunar get freaky, Jötunn Loki, Loki should really communicate better, M/M, Mpreg, Post-Ragnarok, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnancy sex, Sibling Incest, The Boys Learn Parenting 101, Thor doesn't mind, Thor is a teddy bear, but will have a happy ending, forced outing of pregnancy, hits the angst hard, mentioned jeff goldblum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-08 15:36:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12867669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tegary/pseuds/tegary
Summary: Less than a month after the destruction of Asgard, Loki goes into heat.





	1. Past The Limits

**Author's Note:**

> And when your stitch comes loose  
> I wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz  
> And stuffing that comes out of you, you  
> I took too many hits off this memory  
> I need to come down
> 
> Work and chapter titles from Fall Out Boy.

It comes less than a month after Ragnarok. Loki figures it was inevitable, what with all the fucking they’ve been doing. (Thor calls it making love, and Loki scoffs every time, though something in his heart always aches a little). It feels as if Loki has barely left Thor’s bed in the weeks since that first night on the ship, when a hug had turned into something more.

Though he hadn’t exactly been chomping at the bit to learn more about Jötunn biology when he had first discovered his true heritage, Loki had read just enough to understand how his body worked. And it had made him feel even more like some sort of base monster, if that was possible.

Jötunar possessed two biological traits that set them apart from the Aesir. First, Frost Giants were all intersex. Each individual could sire and also carry a child, which partner performed what role was usually decided by who managed to mount the other first during coupling. The glamour Odin had initially placed on Loki when he took him from Jötunheimr had made Loki outwardly male. Out of habit, Loki had taken to continuing to present himself that way. A part of Loki knows that he also keeps the glamours up to avoid being ridiculed by his bedmates. No-one has ever seen his true form, not really.

Secondly, Jötunar underwent a sort of…heat. Loki hates that word. It makes him feel like some sort of broodmare. The heat could happen up to three times a year, though often it only happened once or twice. It wasn’t on a set cycle, either. Jötunn heats were triggered by the presence of a biologically compatible mate, as well as an…emotional component. The heat could not be triggered without the Jötunn having a strong emotional bond with their chosen partner. The textbooks Loki had read mentioned this was likely to increase the chances that the subsequent offspring grew up in a stable environment. The fact that there’s a scientific explanation for it doesn’t make Loki feel any better.

The ship itself is artificially kept humid, and with their turning off the cooling system in order to preserve energy as well as the sheer _volume_ of bodies crammed into one place, Loki is always _hot._ His Aesir form can handle the temperature, though not as well as the true-blood Asgardians that he’s surrounded by. Sometimes, on nights when Thor is too busy to share his bed, Loki flops on the cold floor of his quarters and lets his glamours unwind. He watches dully as ice crystals form on the walls around him, and blows out gusty breaths of frigid air. His room stays relatively cool for a couple hours after, even when he’s transformed back into his pale, peach skin.

Loki figures this is why he doesn’t realize what’s happening to him until a couple days into his cycle. He’s laying in bed with Thor after one of their…bouts when he groans and rolls out from under the sweaty arm Thor has thrown possessively over his waist.

“Did we turn on the heat?” He asks, and Thor cracks his eye open to peer down at him.

“No, I don’t believe so. Why do you ask?”

“I’m melting,” Loki whinges, sitting up and gathering his sweat-damp hair at the base of his neck. “It feels like an Asgardian summer in here.”

“Well we did just perform some…vigorous exercise,” Thor teases suggestively, and then yelps when Loki gives him an elbow to the ribs.

Loki swings his legs over the side of the bed, groaning a bit at the soreness in his thighs and lower back, and a strange new soreness in his groin that he writes off to Thor’s earlier enthused fellatio session. “I’m going to take a cold shower,” He declares, before glancing over his shoulder at the King of Asgard, who has splayed out like a starfish in Loki’s share of the bed. “I suggest you do too, if you don’t want to wake up plastered to the sheets.”

“Why do I have a feeling that you have ulterior motives in mind than just my comfort?” His brother asks with a faint smirk, and Loki gives him the eye.

“Fine, go to bed covered in come. See if I care.”

They go another two rounds in the shower, and Loki comes out of it just as hot as he was before. When he sleeps, he does so on top of the sheets, kicking Thor to the far side of the mattress. That doesn’t last long, though, as Loki wakes not much later with his oaf of a brother spooned up against his back.

Two days after that, his seiðr begins to unwind. Loki very rarely loses control of his magic, the last time being when Frigga had died. He’s in the midst of healing a burn one of Thor’s fellow ex-contenders sustained while fiddling with a faulty wire when the aquamarine light coming from his fingertips whips back and bowls Loki over. When he comes back to himself, blinking stars from his eyes, he realizes it’s left a deep cut across his cheek. Apologizing profusely to the gob smacked-looking being, Loki beats a hasty retreat back to his quarters.

The constant heat, his sorcery, the odd, persistent ache in his abdomen, they all begin to make sense, and Loki watches in horror as blue begins to eat at his fingertips. He’s not going to be able to keep up his Aesir skin for much longer.

It’s not horribly out of place for Loki to refuse an invitation to share Thor’s bed, though in the last few weeks he’s basically moved into Thor’s quarters. A fair amount of his trinkets and rings litter Thor’s nightstand, and he’s left his skin and hair cleansers in the attached washroom. The fact that Loki barely sticks his head out of the door when Thor comes knocking and snaps out “go away” is probably what signals to Thor that something is wrong. His brother, bless him, does try to leave him alone for a few days, during which time Loki’s careful control deteriorates rapidly. His glamours melt away, leaving Loki with nothing but monstrous, horrible blue in his vision every time he opens his eyes. Though he has reverted to Jötunn form, the transformation no longer cools him. It as if the feverish heat has burrowed deep into his very core and made its home there. His breath still creates crystals in the air around him, but it comes fast and panting now. He sweats what he feels like must be enough to fill a lake, and he can only manage about half an hour of sleep at a time before his body wakes him again.

The worst part is the constant gaping _ache_ he feels inside of him, like something is missing. Loki’s not so far gone that he doesn’t recognize the irony in his situation as he rocks against the three slick fingers he has pushed inside of his newest orifice. He’s spent nearly every night of the past few weeks with Thor so far inside him that he can feel it in his throat, and now that he needs Thor like _air,_ needs him so deep that he fills up every empty corner Loki has, the dolt is nowhere to be found. Loki curls his fingers and brushes something inside of him that sends him hurtling over the edge, coming with a cry of Thor’s name.

As he lays, dazed, on the crumpled sheets that he’s nested in on the floor, Loki muses that it’s unfair that he’s blaming Thor for not being around. It’s not like Loki would actually let him into this room if he asked. He would rather suffer the disgust and scorn of a thousand bedmates before seeing the same reflected in Thor’s eyes. Loki’s a _monster_ , some sort of unnatural half-breed, and even _good, kind_ Thor could never accept Loki for what he truly is.

 _So,_ Loki sighs to himself as he pulls his fingers out of his cunt to give his neglected cock some attention, _he’s just going to have to ride this out by himself._

The next couple days pass in a blur of _wake, come, sleep, repeat_. Loki thinks he manages to drag himself to the shower and sit under the assault of ice-cold water for a while, but he can’t remember much at all. Eating is obviously out of the question, as he can’t go gallivanting down to the kitchens in the state he’s in, and his seiðr has all but abandoned him, leaving even a simple transport spell beyond his reach. When he has the strength, Loki forces himself up to fill a pitcher with water from the bathroom sink. Often, after masturbating himself half to death, he’ll down the whole thing in one go before passing out into a dead slumber.

It’s from one of these dozes that Loki is awoken by the sound of banging on his door. He groans and rolls over, blinking blearily across the room, and hopes that whoever it is will just fuck off if he doesn’t acknowledge them.

No such luck. The knocking continues, and Loki shakily takes a gulp of water from the pitcher by his head before clearing his throat.

“…Yes?” His voice is rough from disuse, and Loki winces a bit at how it sounds.

“Loki,” and oh, Norns, it’s Thor, it’s _Thor,_ and just the sound of his voice sends a wave of heat crashing through Loki’s belly, gathering wetness in the folds of his monstrous anatomy. “I haven’t seen you in a couple days. I just wanted to check on you,” His brother’s voice sounds concerned, and Loki would probably feel abashed if he wasn’t so damned _horny._

“I’m—”and Loki has to stop to quell the shake to his voice. “I’m just fine, thank you.” It’s taking what’s left of his frayed willpower to stay put on the floor and not rush over to throw the door open and drag Thor in to this misery with him. “You may go.”

It’s silent for a moment, and Loki’s just begun to think Thor has left, when his brother speaks again. “I…have I done something to displease you?” He asks, and there’s just a tint of hurt to his voice that has Loki scrubbing at his brow in dismay. Thor’s probably out there with that kicked-puppy look upon his face that Loki has never been able to resist. “I promise I am very sorry for whatever slight I may have committed. I would…ask for a chance to right it, if you would grant me that.”

“Thor, I—” And his voice cracks again, but Loki presses on. “It is not a problem you have caused.” And well, that isn’t exactly true, though Thor hadn’t _wittingly_ caused it. “It is nothing you have done.”

“So there is a problem,” Thor states, and Loki curses himself for letting that slip. He’s usually so careful with his words. “Loki, let me in, please. I want to help.”

“Thor, it’s not—I— “

“How long has it been since you ate? Drank? How long have you been locked in your quarters?”

“I— “

“Loki,” Thor says, and his tone holds the finality of when the God of Thunder has made up his mind about something. “Open the door or I’m going to break it.”

His body slumps in defeat. “You might as well break it,” Loki says. “I’m not so confident in my ability to stand.”

And if that doesn’t have the door handle flying off its welding and crashing into the opposite wall in about two seconds flat.

Thor’s face splits in shock when he takes in the scene before him: Loki, now blue-skinned and red-eyed, with small horns sprouting from the wild black hair gathered at the base of his neck. He’s bare as the day he was born, sitting in the array of sheets, towels and clothing he’s managed to gather to nest himself in.

“Shut the door,” Loki says quietly, and Thor gives a dumb nod, doing as he’s asked. As he does so, Loki carefully ties an old tunic around his waist, so as to cover himself.

“What…” Thor begins, but seems struck speechless for a moment, gaze roaming over Loki and making him feel split raw. Heat creeps up his neck and ears, flushing his skin to what Loki now knows is a deep indigo color.

“Loki, what happened?” Thor finally asks, and Loki looks down at his black, pointed nails picking at the beading of the tunic in his lap. There’s not much use in lying now, not with the determined look on Thor’s face that says he’ll be staying put until Loki tells him the truth.

“How much do you know of Jötunn biology?” Loki asks quietly, not looking up.

“…I admit, not much,” Thor replies, carefully squatting down so he’s at Loki’s sitting height. A gentle finger at Loki’s chin tips his head up so he meets Thor’s gaze. Loki doesn’t have the sanctity of mind to wonder why his skin doesn’t burn Thor. “When I had attempted to find scrolls on the subject, mother had told me that the Frost Giants were particularly secretive about those matters.”

This gives Loki pause, and he searches Thor’s face closely. “You looked for scrolls?”

Thor’s expression is honest as he replies. “I did,” He says, and Loki can feel his thumb tracing one of the raised dark whorls imprinted on his skin. “After you fell from the Bifrost, I wanted to learn more. About your original heritage, that is. I wanted to understand.”

Loki doesn’t know exactly what to think of that, and he can only hold Thor’s gaze for so long. He glances down again when he realizes that Thor’s sky blue eye has been looking into Loki’s own blood red this whole time. Thor had often commented in the past about his love for the green eyes of Loki’s Asgardian self.

“Loki,” Thor says, softly, but does not urge him to look up again. “Do not hide from me. Tell me why this is happening.”

He might as well just get this out into the open, then. “Jötunar take longer to mature than other beings,” He explains, picking nervously at the bed of his nails out of habit. “Quite a few years longer than Aesir, in fact. If I was on Jötunheimr, I would be considered early into my sexual maturity. Something about older individuals being more suited to care for their offspring, and all.” He doesn’t realize his hands are shaking until one of Thor’s broad palms covers them. He glances up to see Thor’s face, open and earnest. He truly only wants to know what’s going on, Loki snorts internally. He wonders how long it will take before Thor wishes he hadn’t come knocking.

“When Jötunar reach their coming-of-age, they have typically already chosen the partner that they wish to, erm…” Heat swells up his neck and face again. “Procreate with. The presence of said mate can trigger a certain sexual response, one that is similar to that of a…” Loki shakes his head and forces himself to meet Thor’s gaze. “A heat.”

Thor’s expression shifts from that of contemplation to one of surprise, and Loki suddenly finds a swath of paneling on the opposite wall in need of his scrutiny. “I really am some sort of base monster, aren’t I?” He asks humorlessly, though his tone conveys mirth as a defense mechanism. “Eat, fuck, sleep. I suppose you wish you hadn’t asked, now.”

Thor’s hand tightens over his, and Loki looks up to see that his face has hardened. “Don’t call yourself that,” He says sternly, before carefully pulling one of Loki’s hands to him, using his index finger to trace the swirling lines that dance across it. “Never call yourself a monster, Loki, for you are not. You are a _being_. This is your _biology_. It is nothing to be ashamed of.” He presses a kiss to Loki’s palm, which sends Loki’s heart stuttering in his chest. “I see nothing to hide.”

Stunned speechless for a moment, (Thor seems able to do that more and more, lately), Loki can only gawp at his brother lamely as Thor takes two of his fingers between his lips, sucking playfully. It causes a throb in his cock and his cunt both. A twinkling blue eye looks up and meet Loki’s own mischievously.

“So you have chosen me for your mate?” Thor asks, gently teasing, and Loki scoffs.

“Don’t be dull. I chose you eons ago. It’s just that now your insufferable presence can actually make me physically miserable as well as mentally and emotionally.”

To any other being it would sound like an insult, but Thor knows Loki too well, has the uncanny ability to see past every wall and defense Loki has ever crafted. So his brother simply smiles set to rival the sun and tugs Loki into his lap.

The half-hardness Loki lands on makes him gasp, and the little squirm he gives in response draws a growl from Thor’s throat.

“As much as I adore your Aesir skin,” Thor drawls, before dipping to kiss open-mouthed at Loki’s bare shoulder, “I must admit, this color on you is particularly…fetching.”

“Really?” Loki snorts, but it shifts into a startled moan as Thor rolls his hips up against Loki’s own. The dazed look he gives Thor in response earns him another sunny grin.

“Really,” He says cheekily, and Loki’s answering scoff hides just a hint of a smile.

“Idiot,” Loki says.

“Brat,” Thor replies, and then his mouth is on Loki’s.

Loki can’t hold in a pitiful little whine as he tips his head to the side to allow Thor better access. He’s been in want of this for _days_ , and just the taste of Thor’s lips seems to fill some of the gaping emptiness inside of him. It’s not _enough_ , though, and before Loki can think about what he’s doing, he’s giving a frustrated grunt and toppling Thor back onto the nest of cloth behind him.

His brother actually looks a little stunned, but Loki doesn’t have much time to be proud of himself. Thor cups Loki’s hips in his overly-large hands and begins a rolling grind up against him that makes Loki see stars. Loki’s eyes glaze, and a ringlet of shiny black hair falls from where it’s been gathered at the base of his neck. Thor reaches up to tuck it behind his ear. They just watch each other, panting, for a moment, before the king begins to speak.

“You’ve been locked in here, gagging for my cock, for how long, now?”

The steel-fire look that Loki would normally give him in response for such language seems a little half-hearted this time. “Three days.”

Thor hums, mock-thoughtfully, before moving one of his hands up to cup Loki’s erection through the tunic he has tied about his waist. “Three days. And what have you been doing for three days, little Loki?”

“Don’t call me—guh,” he breaks off into a moan as Thor squeezes. “What do you think I’ve been doing?” And he rocks forward into Thor’s hand, trying to get more friction, but the oaf keeps his grip intentionally light.

“I really don’t think I can know if you don’t tell me.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Loki hisses, and bares his elongated, sharpened canines for good measure. Thor simply chuckles before lifting an eyebrow at him, moving his hand away.

The whine Loki gives in response sounds almost pained. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ve been pleasuring myself. Is that what you wanted to hear? I’ve been stuffing my fingers inside of myself, wishing it was you the entire time. And I swear to the Norns, Thor Odinson, if you aren’t inside me within the next minute— “

And he’s cut off by Thor bowling him over, flipping their positions so now Loki’s the one on his back and Thor looms over him. The feral glint in Thor’s eye along with the dominant position he’s taken over Loki sends a rush of heat through the trickster’s body, and he actually feels himself gush a bit with slick.

“Three days, we could have been doing this,” Thor murmurs against the skin of Loki’s neck before he bites down, causing the trickster to howl and arch up against him. “Pity.” His broad hands travel down Loki’s skin, and a warm mouth follows. He strokes and plucks at Loki’s midnight blue nipples before leaning down to lap at each, alternating between nipping and suckling until Loki’s nails on his back begin to break skin. His fingers trace along the dark whorls adorning Loki’s abdomen, and Loki squirms against the scrape of Thor’s beard on his ribs as his tongue copies the path. He takes time to suck and nip at the nobs of Loki’s hipbones before settling just over where the tunic covers the rest of his skin, looking up to give Loki a teasing smirk as he reaches for the knot.

“Wait, Thor—” And Thor does, sitting up so he can see Loki’s face, which has gone indigo with want.

“Before you do that…there’s something else you should know.” Loki says, anxiety beginning to worm its way through the haze of lust and settle like a ball of ice in his gut. Thor frowns in confusion but gives him a nod, allowing Loki to shimmy out from under him so that they’re sitting across from each other.

“It’s probably easier to just show you.” Loki’s trembling fingers slip on the knot a couple times before he manages to undo it, taking a deep breath. “You are…do not feel like you have to stay after this,” He adds, though Thor’s rejection now will likely wreck him with how utterly toppled his defenses are.

Closing his eyes tightly, Loki removes the tunic and bares himself. In the past couple days, he’s gotten fairly used to his sex: his cunt is not much different from a woman’s, save the one glaring inconsistency that comes in the form of his cock, which comes out of the folds of his labia where a clitoris would usually be. Though his vulvar anatomy will likely never feel exactly natural to him, at least he can now look at himself without the base feeling that something is horribly _wrong_. He cannot say the same for how Thor must feel, though.

An eternity seems to go by in silence, and eventually, Loki cannot take it any more and has to open his eyes.

Thor is studying him with his eye widened, obviously surprised by what he sees. But, Loki allows himself to hope faintly, there doesn’t seem to be a hint of disgust or fear or anger mingling with the shock.

“You have…both,” Thor says after a moment more, and Loki scoffs, voice pitched high with nerves.

“Oh come now, what are we, seven? I have a penis and a vagina, Thor. A cock and a cunt.” And Thor must be able to sense Loki trying to build up his walls again somehow, because he lays a hand on Loki’s thigh and dips his head to meet Loki’s gaze.

Of all the things Loki was expecting, Thor licking his lips deliberately and winking at him before ducking down was not on the list.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” He murmurs against Loki’s thigh, and the trickster’s head drops back with a gusty moan. “I fear there may be a bit of a learning curve. But I am nothing if not an enthusiastic pupil.”

The first slow swipe of Thor’s tongue from the bottom to the top of his cunt has Loki jerking, thighs squeezing around Thor’s head. His brother chuckles and slides his hands down Loki’s thighs to hold them spread.

It’s not like Loki’s never been eaten out before, but that’s been in an entirely different _place,_ an entirely different feeling. There’s something new about the sensation of Thor’s stubble against the soft insides of his thighs, mouth and tongue playing along the sensitive, wet folds of Loki’s more feminine sex. It seems much more raw, more intimate, especially with the fact that Thor is the first person to see him this way, to _touch_ him in this way. Loki supposes if he wasn’t already ruined for any other partner, he is now.

Thor noses up his folds before mouthing softly at the base of his cock, smirking when Loki’s thighs quiver with the sensation. “You’re so _wet,_ ” He says, reverently, his cheeks shining with a mix of his own saliva and Loki’s natural slick. He licks his lips again, slow, and Loki’s head hits the cloth pile behind him with a muffled _thump_. “It tastes sweet. Just like you.”

This earns Thor the sole of a foot to his face, and he chuckles and rolls with it good-naturedly, sitting back on his heels and meeting narrowed red eyes.

“I’m not sweet,” Loki bites with no venom, letting his upper lip curl over his canines. “I would think the past few weeks would have proven that to you, at least.”

“Little viper,” Thor chides softly, and Loki growls against the kiss Thor presses to his mouth. “I know better than to underestimate you.”

Thor’s cock slides into Loki much more easily than during their bouts in the past, where time had to be taken for oil and slow fingers to coax him open enough to accept Thor’s girth. Now, helped along by the copious amount of slick Loki is producing, it takes almost no effort at all for Thor to sheath inside him fully. Ice crystals dance around Thor’s face as Loki blows out the breath that he’d been holding in. The world seems righted, in that moment, and Loki feels _filled, whole_ again like he hasn’t felt in days, maybe even longer.

“Fuck, Thor,” He gasps out, and his brother grunts in agreement. The thrusts start out slow, with Thor pulling out so just the head of his cock holds Loki speared open, before pushing in again, a long slip-slide that leaves Loki digging his heels into the small of Thor’s back.

 _“Thor,”_ Loki snarls, voice rough. He tries to drive his hips up, but Thor bars one muscled arm over his abdomen, holding him down as he continues his leisurely pace.

“What?” The great oaf asks innocently, though there is a wicked twinkle in his remaining eye. “You told me to get inside you, so here I am. I thought this was what you wanted?” His next thrust barely grazes that magical spot inside Loki that he’s become quite familiar with in the last few days, and the trickster almost screams in frustration.

“ _You know what I want!”_ Loki kicks at Thor’s back again, but this time his brother stills, watching him with an expectant tilt to his head. The noise of vexation that comes out of Loki sounds practically animal.

“Ask me, Loki.” Thor says. And the dam breaks, so to speak.

“Fuck, Thor,” Loki cries out, and is rewarded by his brother sliding back out again to prepare for his next thrust. “I need you. I need you so deep in me that I can feel you in my _throat_ , I need to be able to feel you for the next _week_ every time I move, I’ve been empty for _ages...!”_ And Thor’s next thrust reverberates through Loki’s body, forcing a moan from his chest. “I need everyone to know that you belong to me, and I belong to you…!”

And now Thor’s set a quick, heavy pace, crashing into Loki so forcefully that it pushes air from his lungs each time. He curls over the trickster’s prone form on the ground, and Loki can feel electricity crackling in the air, barely restrained.

“That’s right,” Thor huffs into his ear, low and dark, and Loki actually _whimpers._ “You are mine, and I am yours. This is where you belong, Loki. By my side. And I belong at yours.” And as Loki closes his eyes and starts to give in to the heat rapidly cresting in his gut, Thor leans down and bites into his shoulder, surely leaving a mark. “This is how it has been,” He says with finality. “And this is how it always shall be.”

Loki comes first, hurtling over the edge with a shout as Thor wraps a hand around his cock, pumping in time with his thrusts. The god of thunder hits that spot inside of Loki again halfway through his orgasm, and the god of mischief goes slack-jawed and wide eyed as it seems to trigger a _second_ completion in him. He’s so electrified by it that he barely registers the hot gush of Thor spilling inside of him.

When Loki comes back to himself, he’s on his bed, head supported by a pillow and body wrapped in a clean sheet. He makes a cracked, confused noise and strains to look around. Thor is nowhere to be seen. This triggers some sort of panic in Loki, and he sits up, ignoring the aching in his back.

“Careful,” He hears, and turns his head to find Thor standing in the doorway, holding a glass in one hand and a plate piled with fruits and cheeses in the other. His body slumps in relief as Thor approaches, settling down on the side of the bed to offer Loki the glass, which he takes and downs gratefully. Next Thor takes a grape from the plate and offers it to him, chuckling when Loki nips a little at his fingertips.

“How are you feeling?” Thor asks, handing the plate over as Loki begins to eat ravenously. “You passed out for a while. I knew I was good, but not _that_ good,” and he ducks as Loki flings a fig at his face.

“I feel like I just got run over by a bilgesnipe,” Loki gripes around a mouthful of apple. “But the ache inside of me is gone. I think it’s over.”

“That’s a pity. I was hoping to get you to beg at least twice more,” And Loki’s aim with the fig is true this time. It smacks Thor in the brow bone, and the great oaf falls backwards with an exaggerated grunt, landing over Loki’s thighs.

“I’ve been hit!” Thor wails, and Loki thinks he sees his brain with how hard he rolls his eyes into the back of his head. “Oh, woe is me. The pain, the indignity! Tell…my brother…I love him…” and Thor goes limp, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth like some great beast.

“You child,” Loki says, but can’t stop the heat that pools in his cheeks at the truth he finds in Thor’s theatrics. “He’s right here, why don’t you tell him yourself?”

It takes a moment, but Thor slowly sits up, face now earnest and somber. He reaches out and carefully takes the mostly empty plate of food from Loki’s hands and sets it to the side before twining his fingers with Loki’s own, the tips of which are now starting to melt back to a creamy white color.

“I do,” Thor says softly, giving Loki’s hands a little squeeze. “Love you, that is.”

Loki has to swallow the lump that’s formed in his throat, which he writes off to ridiculous Jotünn biology and its emotional bonds. “And I, you,” He says after a while, the most he can give to Thor right now. His brother seems to know this and accepts it, face splitting into a sunny grin as he brings his mouth against Loki’s own.

Loki’s Jötunn visage begins to melt little by little as time passes, and, by the time he is ready to sleep that evening, he is a strange sort of blue-and-peach piebald over his face and chest. Thor had stayed for their traditional post-coital nap before needing to return to the main room to meet with Heimdall, promising he’d be swift and return with more food. He’s barely just dozing off amongst the sheets when he hears his door slide open again.

Exhausted, Loki stays curled up, eyes closed as he listens to the sound of Thor shuffling around the room, discarding armor and clothing alike until the bed dips with his weight. An arm curls possessively around Loki’s waist, and he doesn’t complain as he’s pulled back into a warm, bare chest.

“So how many times a year does this happen?” Thor murmurs against his hair, and Loki snorts weakly, batting at Thor’s arm with a hand.

“Go to sleep, Thor.”


	2. I Woke Up, No Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki wakes two days after his heat with pale skin, green eyes, and not a hint of horns to be seen. He assumes this means everything has gone back to normal.
> 
> This is a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was finished and edited in record time. I'm finding a kind of catharsis for my exam season anxiety in writing this, so thank you all for indulging me and my thousand-and-one favorite tropes.

Loki wakes two days after his heat with pale skin, green eyes, and not a hint of horns to be seen. He assumes this means everything has gone back to normal.

This is a mistake.

The dynamic between Loki and Thor doesn’t change after the whole ordeal, not really. They still wind up sharing a bed more nights than not, and Thor still calls it making love. Loki still scoffs, but if he smiles a bit after and becomes a little less combative, Thor doesn’t mention it. Loki doesn’t become more frequent with grand declarations of feelings, or, really, any declarations at all. He writes his moment of soppy weakness off to the hormones running through his veins during his heat. Thor waits until he thinks Loki is asleep at night to whisper words of love against his hair. Loki pretends to not hear.

Life goes on. It will take them at least a year to reach the warp point that will transport them to Midgard, which means the ship must stop for supply runs twice to three times a month. They do have a whole population of people to feed and care for, after all. 

“That’s too high,” Loki comments dryly as he steps up behind Thor, who is buying fresh fruit from a stall on the backwater planet they’ve landed on. “Half the barrel is bruised. Sell it for a fair price or we’ll find someone who will.”

The merchant gives Loki a not-nice smile, all sharp teeth and dark eyes. Loki simply tilts his head and watches the being expectantly, feeling a spike of pride in his chest when it turns back to Thor and offers half the price. Loki follows Thor back to the ship with their bounty after, Thor hefting the crates and barrels in his arms as Loki floats his own behind him. He could offer to help Thor, but Loki is an indulgent man, and he’s always been a fan of the way Thor’s biceps flex.

“That was impressive,” His brother comments as he passes his share of the weight on to a couple Asgardians who have appeared to help load it. “Ever the wordsmith.”

“That wasn’t even wordsmithing,” Loki replies, snapping his fingers. A peach appears from one of the crates it had been stored in and drops into Loki’s hand. He splits it into fourths with a finger, popping one of the slices into his mouth. “You are just horrid at haggling. You’re never supposed to pay full price from a vendor. They inflate them with the knowledge that you’ll try to bargain with them.”

“I was a sheltered child,” Thor defends, reaching for one of the pieces of fruit in Loki’s hands. 

Loki lets him have it. “I was too, you know.” 

“Then how did you learn to bargain?” Thor asks, tucking in to his slice of peach as they head back up the entry ramp and into the ship. 

“I’ve been many places since I fell from the Bifrost,” Loki shrugs. He doesn’t really want to get into this conversation right now. “The title of Prince of Asgard isn’t enough to get you whatever you want in most places.” And the title of traitor will get you even less, Loki snorts internally.

Thor opens his mouth, likely to ask another question, but he’s interrupted by the appearance of Valkyrie, who has become the ship’s official pilot in the last couple weeks. Loki has never been so relieved by her presence before. They’ve not exactly gotten along in the time that they’ve known each other. Valkyrie doesn’t trust Loki when he says that he’s not going to sabotage the whole operation and run. Loki resents her for keeping an eye on him thusly, even if her suspicions aren’t exactly unfounded. 

“Banner’s asking for you,” She says to Thor, not even acknowledging Loki’s presence. “Something about star charts.” 

“I had been meaning to talk to you,” Thor smiles and clasps her on the shoulder. “Meet me in the mess after I speak with Banner? Loki’s just gotten us the most wonderful fruit for half what we paid last time.” And he turns and smiles warmly at Loki. The trickster blinks, surprised, before dipping his head a bit in acknowledgement. 

“Has he?” Valkyrie asks, but her tone is one of disinterest. “I suppose you can get anything you want with a silvertongue like his. I’ll meet you there in an hour,” She says, and Thor nods and clasps her shoulder again before turning to Loki. 

“We still need to discuss the citizen council we’re planning,” He says, and Loki gives him a nod. “I’ll not be too long.” And he brings a hand up to cup Loki’s neck under his jaw, giving a little squeeze, before turning and heading down the hallway. Loki’s skin prickles with heat where Thor’s touch had been.

Loki’s just about to turn towards the makeshift medical wing when Valkyrie’s voice stops him.

“Don’t think people aren’t noticing,” She says, and Loki turns to face her slowly.

“Noticing what?” He asks, eyebrows raised and eyes widened earnestly, an expression that never fails to work on Thor. The look Valkyrie gives him in return means that Thor might be the only person Loki’s expression works on.

“You two. Doing—” She makes a vague motion with her hands. “Whatever it is you’re doing. Don’t think people aren’t noticing. He won’t stop mentioning you, even if you aren’t in the room. And we all see him coming out of your quarters in the morning.”

Heat and anger spike in equal parts in Loki’s gut, and his expression sharpens, lips pulling tight across his teeth. “I don’t quite think that’s any of your business.”

“He’s my friend, so it’s my business,” Valkyrie counters, pressing up into Loki’s space. He doesn’t back away, so they’re at a stalemate, staring each other down. “And he is the leader of these people, so it’s their business. If you hurt him— “

“What, you’ll get the shovel?” Loki sneers, pressing up a bit to play to his height advantage. “I’m not some sort of adolescent boy taking your son out on a date. Don’t worry, I’ll have him home by midnight,” he snarks, “But I’m afraid I can’t tell you he won’t come back deflowered.”

Instead of enraging her, like Loki had planned, Valkyrie smirks a bit and steps back, looking infuriatingly amused. “You remember what I did to you on Sakaar?” She asks, and Loki does, vividly. “Don’t make me do it again.” And she turns on her heel and strides back down the hallway, leaving Loki seething in her wake.

“Do you think people know?” He asks Thor that night while he sits in front of the full-length mirror in Thor’s quarters, plaiting his recently washed hair back behind his head. Thor looks up from the star chart he has spread across his desk. 

“Know what?” Thor asks, and Loki keeps his eyes on the mirror.

“That we’re, you know,” And he doesn’t really have a name for what they are, what they’re doing, so Loki mimics the vague hand gesture that Valkyrie had made earlier. 

Thor approaches him slowly, sinking down to his knees so he can settle behind Loki, thighs bracketing Loki’s own. He takes the tie from Loki’s wrist and secures the plait as Loki finishes.

“Would it bother you if they did?”

It takes a moment for Loki to answer as he meets Thor’s gaze in the mirror. “I’d be more worried about if it bothered them.” _And you_ , Loki doesn’t add. 

“Why’s that?” Thor asks, reaching out to take one of Loki’s hands in his own, splaying their fingers together. “What have we to hide?”

Loki manages to tone down his look to one of exasperation, though several sharper emotions boil over in him at the question. “A better question is, what have we _not_ to hide? I’m a traitor to the crown, Thor, I banished their king to earth and falsely ruled them, amongst other things. Alongside that, I was raised as your brother, and the practice of inbreeding within royalty to keep a pure bloodline was abolished centuries ago.” He finally turns to face Thor, taking their entwined hands and bringing them up to eye-level. “Not to mention the final problem,” And Loki lets his Aesir skin melt, revealing frigid blue along his palm and fingertips. “I’m a monster, Thor. I’m the beast parents tell their children of at night.”

“Loki,” Thor sighs, before bringing Loki’s palm up to the side of his face. Thor’s latent heat makes the blue tinge recede from Loki’s skin, until it’s banished again to wherever it resides in Loki’s core self. “You have done ill. This is true. Many have been hurt by your actions. But how many have been saved?” He looks up at Loki, earnest, and the god of mischief has to look away. “Loki, these people owe you their lives. It was you who resurrected Surtur to stop Hela.”

“It was also I who triggered the destruction of Asgard,” Loki points out dully, and Thor takes his chin between his fingers, giving it a little shake.

“It was the only way, Loki. The people know this. They would have rather escaped with their lives than fight a battle in which they would die.” Thor’s gaze captures Loki’s and the trickster cannot look away. “You came back. You protected the people of Asgard. You _stayed_.” And Loki can barely take the amount of emotion Thor pours into that single word. “I said I thought you could be something more. I still believe that.” 

His Jötunn biology must be acting up again, because something lodges thick in Loki’s throat, and he has to clear it, looking anywhere but at Thor’s face. His brother sighs and thumbs Loki’s cheekbone.

“As for everything else, it may take them some getting used to. Yes, we were raised as kin, but we are not related by blood. I think it has been a long time since the people have seen us as brothers,” He points out. “And you are a being, Loki, a Jötunn. Not a monster. It is true that the Aesir have formed unfair expectations about the Jötunar. We’ll work together to change them.” And Thor flicks the tip of his nose, getting Loki to meet his gaze with an indignant huff. “I’m sure seeing just how happy you make me will help. The Asgardian people are hopeless romantics.”

“I suppose I know where you get it from, now,” Loki gripes, but his tone is lighter, and Thor smiles, pleased. 

The next month goes by smoothly. They make two more supply stops, in which Loki shows Thor how to bargain with the vendors so both parties come away pleased. After the second run, Loki comes back to his quarters to find a finely-carved dagger sitting on his bed. Its blade is made of a clear material, Loki guesses at some sort of alien gemstone, but it’s sharp as glass and hard as steel. The hilt is golden, engraved delicately with green blossoms that snake like ivy up the sides. 

“I thought you’d like it,” Thor says as they undress to shower that night.

Loki shows Thor just how much he likes it against the shower wall.

While Loki begins to spend more and more time amongst the people, even holding citizen council once while Thor is busy, he still feels a prickle of unease around them. He’s constantly searching for judgment in their eyes, afraid that they will begin whispering as soon as he turns his back. Thor has been less and less discreet since the conversation they’d had in his quarters, often resting a hand on the small of Loki’s back as they walk together or watching him with open affection whilst Loki discusses schematics with the ship’s make-shift crew of engineers.

Exactly six weeks after his heat, Loki is in the midst of showing their group of healers a more efficient spell for bone-setting when one of them gasps.

“With all due respect, Highness,” She says, and Loki looks up at her, confused. 

“Your fingers…”

Ice forms in the pit of his stomach before Loki even looks down. When he does, he finds just as he expected: his fingertips are starting to tinge blue of their own accord. Remembering what happened last time, Loki quickly quashes his seiðr before it can lash out and harm someone. 

“I…” He flounders, quickly balling his hands into fists in order to hide their color. The gentle palm that lands on his arm startles him, and he looks up. 

Svanhild, one of the older healers, is watching him with concern in her bright grey eyes. “Are you well, Highness?” She asks softly, one of her palms coming up to cup under Loki’s fist, gently urging him to open it so that she can see. “Is there something wrong?”

Loki is speechless, letting Svanhild check him over, placing her hands on his forehead and cheeks. One by one, the other healers gather around him, but instead of gawping at the coloring of his skin, like Loki expected, they all seem genuinely concerned for his well-being. 

“You don’t seem warm,” She says after a moment, wrinkles around her eyes crinkled in contemplation. Loki shakes out of his reverie, before dipping his head to them all.

“I’m sorry, it’s nothing to be worried about. Thank you all for your help,” He says, offering a small smile that a couple of the women return. “I apologize, but we’ll have to continue this lesson at a later date.”

When he returns to his quarters, Loki quickly strips and examines himself in the mirror, but not a tinge of blue is to be found, other than at his fingertips. He redresses himself and settles on the floor in the middle of his quarters, taking several deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Carefully, he performs a transporting spell, and the porcelain hair comb he’d been gifted by Frigga drops into his palm from where it had been sitting on Thor’s bathroom counter. The yellowing bruise on his upper arm he’d sustained in a sparring session with Thor disappears completely with a swipe of his hand. Finally, he tests a particularly tricky transformation spell, taking the form of a crow and then back to his own shape without mishap. His seiðr seems completely unchanged. 

Though he knows relatively little about his heats, having only gone through one, Loki has a hard time believing that the cycle is beginning anew. Six weeks seems like a relatively short time between cycles that only happen bi- to tri-annually. This comes along with the fact that last time, Loki hadn’t begun to lose grip on his glamours until the worst of the heat was basically upon him, and his seiðr had begun to act up before that.

Perhaps this is just a latent effect of his last heat, Loki thinks, pulling a pair of dark leather gloves over his hands to hide their color. There really isn’t anything to be worried about. He doesn’t feel as if he’ll spontaneously combust if he doesn’t have sex right at this very moment. In any case, he’s agreed to help Thor oversee the weekly citizen council, and if he doesn’t leave soon, he’ll be late. 

Thor doesn’t really like to sit in the pilot’s chair-turned-throne often, least of all when he’s hosting the group of about a dozen Asgardians who were elected by their peers to council. He’d much rather be amongst his people, walking around and giving each of them the attention they deserve as they speak of the needs and opinions of their fellow citizens. When Loki attends, he often sits in a chair off to the side, scratching down notes in a specially-bound book. 

Eldotta, one of the councilwomen who used to be the headmistress at one of Asgard’s schools, is in the middle of giving a report on the fledgling tutoring program she’s been heading, when Loki’s stomach rolls. 

His quill stops moving across the parchment, and he frowns, glancing down at his abdomen like he’ll somehow find the answer there. Unsurprisingly, he does not. Shrugging it off, Loki goes back to writing, making it another few minutes before it happens again. This time he gags, and one of the men in the back of the room looks at him curiously.

Loki gives him an awkward reassuring smile for the whole of a second before something is pushing at his throat, and he barely makes it across the room and to a waste basket in time before he’s emptying his stomach into it. 

There’s a murmur of surprise from the people gathered in the room, and Loki wretches violently as a warm pair of hands gather his hair behind his head and rub soothingly at his back. He stays this way for a couple minutes before the cramping in his stomach subsides, and Loki sits back, wiping feebly at his mouth. When he turns his head, he sees Svanhild kneeling behind him, with Thor close by her side, looking horribly concerned. 

“I knew you seemed ill,” The healer says, producing a kerchief from somewhere in her tunic. Loki takes it gratefully, wiping at his chin and mouth. 

“Take him to the medical wing,” Thor says to Svanhild, taking Loki’s hand and helping him stand. “If you would, please.”

“I’m fine,” Loki counters, straightening his clothing out and tossing his hair back behind his shoulders. Every pair of eyes in the room is on him. “The cheese I was eating last night tasted a little off. We should make sure the whole batch isn’t bad.”

Thor doesn’t seem so convinced. “You are not prone to taking ill,” He insists, and squeezes Loki’s hand lightly. “Just let Svanhild check you over. Please. For me.”

And Loki hates him for pulling that in front of all of these people. What is he supposed to say? He looks to Svanhild for support, but she looks just about as concerned as Thor does. 

“Alright, fine,” He says, and Thor cups his neck again in signature fashion.

“Thank you.”

Loki lays back on a fairly uncomfortable cot as Svanhild fusses over him, performing almost every test and diagnosing spell she can to no avail.

“It’s not a stomach flu,” She says, standing back and wiping the sweat off of her brow with her apron. “It’s so much harder to diagnose anyone now without the use of a soul forge. Poor little Selby had a nasty strain of the sniffles for two weeks before we found out what was wrong with him.” 

“Really, I don’t think it’s much to be concerned about,” Loki tries to sit up, but falls back a bit on his elbows as the shift in his equilibrium sends him woozy. Svanhild gives him a look.

“There is one thing I could try,” She says softly, before looking up at Loki uncertainly. He frowns. “Your seiðr is particularly strong, yes? If we could draw from its link with Yggdrasil, I could possibly make an imitation soul forge.”

It’s an interesting idea, Loki muses, and he’s quite impressed with Svanhild for thinking of it. He’s never gone particularly deep into the link his seiðr has with Yggdrasil, though all magics come from the tree of life. Though he doubts it will do much (there’s nothing wrong with him!) he’s intrigued by the prospect of exploring a new facet to his sorcery. This is probably what makes him agree. 

Tracing his magic back to its roots is a slippery thing. It takes an immense amount of concentration, and even the smallest thought passing Loki’s mind interrupts his connection and he must start anew. As he slips deeper and deeper into trance, Loki begins to see, begins to feel the shimmering threads of seiðr that connect all beings, all worlds, all realms. And inside these threads, Loki exists. 

Svanhild’s soft little gasp snaps Loki back to the present, and when he opens his eyes, there’s a mist not unlike a soul forge dancing in the air, ever shifting and breathing. Loki’s seen his aura enough times to be able to tell that this is what is being projected, the aquamarine essence that is simply Loki that manifests itself in his seiðr. He has also seen his aura enough times to be intimately familiar with it, and this time, something is off. Unlike the pure, sea-foam hue his aura has always been, there is a tiny section shimmering in the center that holds a golden tint, like sunlight through a glass bottle.

It takes Loki a moment to parse out what he's seeing, but when the realization hits him, his heart seems to jerk to a stop.

Svanhild must figure it out at the same time, because her hands fly up to her mouth, eyes round as moons and just as wide. “You’re— “

“I’m pregnant,” Loki breathes.


	3. This Isn't How Our Story Ends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This really cannot be happening. Loki’s in the middle of Odin-knows-where in the galaxy, on a ship with thousands of Asgardians who have just lost their planet, not to mention the fact that he is currently in possession of one of the infinity stones. He hasn’t even gotten up the courage to tell Thor about what Thanos did to him the first time around, much less what the Mad Titan will do once he finds Loki this time. And now…now…
> 
> He’s pregnant with Thor’s child.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> After reading comments left here and on Tumblr, I've decided to put the original version of chapter three back up to allow more people to read and leave comments. I decided I may have been a little hasty in taking chapter three down originally. I'm sorry! I'm still new to this whole publishing-my-original-works thing. I really do appreciate everyone's input, and I consider everyone's opinions and concerns completely valid! Let me know how this chapter makes you feel. Angry? Excited? Unsure? I really do appreciate your input.
> 
> As before, a warning: there is a mention of abortion in this chapter. It is marked by a slash in front of the paragraph, so those of you who would like to skip it can feel free to do so. 
> 
> Also: this chapter includes a forced outing of a pregnancy. If you'd like to skip this, the best place to discontinue reading is after Loki's interaction with Dag.

It doesn’t take much to convince Svanhild to not tell Thor, for which Loki is eternally grateful.

“This is between you and His Majesty,” She says, before giving him a look that could wither even the most hardened of warriors. “But he does deserve to know, Highness. The child is also his, after all.”

She lets him go after he promises to return to her every two weeks so that she can monitor his health and that of the babe’s. Svanhild had been, after all, a midwife before the destruction of Asgard. She also passes on a recipe for a potion that will help with the sickness the child is causing, though Loki will have to go looking for the ingredients the next time they make a supply run.

Loki’s back in his quarters before he realizes he never told Svanhild who the father of the baby was.

His legs give out on him soon after he crosses the threshold, and he tumbles to the floor. Loki’s whole body feels like a live wire, hot-electric and shaking, barely restrained. This cannot be happening. This really _cannot_ be happening. Loki’s in the middle of Odin-knows-where in the galaxy, on a ship with thousands of Asgardians who have just lost their _planet_ , not to mention the fact that he is currently in possession of _one of the infinity stones_. He hasn’t even gotten up the courage to tell Thor about what Thanos did to him the first time around, much less what the Mad Titan will do once he finds Loki _this time._ And now…now…

He’s pregnant with Thor’s child. 

The scream he looses sends ice shards flying into the walls, shattering lights and cracking his mirror.

Once he’s calmed himself, he paces the room with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Shows of emotion will not fix his problem. He has to _think._ His first instinct is, of course, to run. To disappear with the child into the far-reaches of the galaxy, never to be heard from again. But, unlike the problems of Loki’s past, hiding is not likely to solve this one. Thanos would find him, of that Loki has no doubt. Also differing from his problems of the past is another variable: Thor. As much as Loki had cared for his brother in his youth, he would have abandoned him without a second thought if it was best for himself.

Now, the thought of leaving Thor sparks rebellion in Loki’s heart. If this is the Jötunn side of himself trying to save its mating pair or Loki’s own true feelings, he is unsure. What he does know is that abandoning Thor is not an option, not this time. They’ve proven that they’re stronger together, and that will be an advantage against Thanos, even if it puts Thor in danger.

Puts the baby in danger.

/Loki snarls and shakes his head, hands coming up to card wildly through his hair. _The baby._ This is the root of the problem, after all. He’s known about it for no more than an hour, but it’s enough that even the thought of ridding himself of it makes him feel _physically ill._ Loki knows plenty of spells, plenty of potions that could solve this problem nearly instantly. But there’s something about the thought of this child that makes Loki’s heart glow warm. Inside of him, right now, is a being who is formed of Thor and Loki’s essences combined. The aura of the baby that had been reflected in Loki’s own had been blue-tinted-gold, like noon sunlight through one of the palace’s many stained-glass windows.

The babe is proof. Proof of their union, proof of the regard Thor holds for Loki. (And proof of the regard Loki holds for Thor). He settles cross-legged on his floor, fixing the broken mirror with a flick of his hand. Slowly, Loki takes off his soft armor until only the tunic under remains, which he rucks up to his chest. There’s not much different about his abdomen currently, but, if he squints, he thinks he can make out a soft roundness to his stomach that wasn’t there before. Perhaps he’s imagining it.

Cupping a hand against his stomach, Loki hums quietly. “You have terrible timing,” He says to the babe, before huffing out a soft laugh. “I suppose you get that from me.”

 _Oh, great. He’s talking to it._ Loki is well and truly fucked if he already has an emotional attachment to a bundle of cells that he’s known about for barely an hour. He supposes there is a third option. Tell Thor about the baby. Have it here, on this cold, metal ship that’s serving as a makeshift home. And raise it together in an uncertain future that has just become even more turbulent.

That’s assuming Thor reacts well to the news that Loki is carrying his firstborn.

Even with how infinitely (and distastefully, in Loki’s opinion), sentimental Thor is, he’s also in the midst of the biggest transition of his life. In a very short while, Thor has lost his father, learned he had another sibling, lost that sibling, and lost his home in rapid succession (not to mention the eye). Now he’s been thrust into kingship, and is personally responsible for thousands of people and their futures. Having a baby is probably not high on his list of priorities, either.

Loki’s head hurts. So does his stomach.

He has time to think about this. About eight more months of time, to be exact. He needn’t rush this decision. So when Thor shows up at his door that night, Loki smiles his most convincing smile and tells him with no uncertainty that he’s managed to pick up a stomach bug, and he should be better within the week.

While they sleep, tangled up in one another, Thor’s wide palm spreads over Loki’s stomach. It’s an odd feeling for Loki, knowing Thor’s hand unwittingly rests over the womb where his child resides. He allows his own hand to slip down and cover Thor’s before he drifts off again.

Yule season approaches them rapidly, and Thor insists that they celebrate. He says that it will give the people a sense of normalcy, though Loki doubts anything could feel close to normal after all they’ve been through.

“Jól is a celebration of new beginnings,” Thor tells him as Loki lays on his chest one night, drumming his fingers over Thor’s pectorals. “Of rebirth.”

Thor doesn’t know how right he is.

Loki begins showing around his twelfth week. There is a definite hard ridge right under his belly, and his stomach begins to grow and round. It’s easy enough to hide with his glamours, though this seems to draw on his magic more than it would normally. Loki vaguely remembers the book he read on Jötunn biology mentioning that seiðr was often redirected to help protect and incubate the baby.

While Thor is pondering over alcohol for drinking Jól during one of their stops, Loki manages to gather all the ingredients he needs for the potion to ease his morning sickness. He’s been sneaking out of bed for the past few mornings and casting a silencing charm on the bathroom door, so the reprieve will be welcomed. Along with that, he’s become a terribly picky eater. (Well, _pickier_ eater). When before Loki subsisted on a diet of mostly fruits, nuts, and cheeses, now all he ever wants to eat is meat, which is a problem in itself because they still haven’t found a way to keep meat for long periods of time without it spoiling. He had snapped at Thor about it once, and after he was surprised that Thor hadn’t found him out right then and there.

Another (surprising) side effect of the pregnancy comes in the form of his increased libido. It’s not like the heat, where Loki had felt as if he would literally die if he didn’t have sex. But Loki seems to always be just a little bit horny, and even watching Thor do mundane tasks is usually enough to have Loki ready and raring.  

“What have we here?” Thor chuckles one day when he suddenly finds himself with a lapful of Loki in the pilot’s seat.

“Stop pretending you’re not pleased by it,” The trickster replies, shutting and locking the doors with a flick of his hand.

Thor had suggested fucking in the pilot’s chair more than once over the past couple months, promising Loki it would be safe (“I am the king! No-one would ever enter without my express permission. Except, perhaps, Valkyrie…”) but Loki had been staunchly against it. He supposes the hormones raging through his changing body have not only made him horny, but also lowered his inhibitions. On one particularly memorable occasion, Loki had dropped to his knees right around the corner from where Banner and Valkyrie were conversing in Thor’s quarters.

“My friends are near,” Thor had whispered, but he didn’t look exactly perturbed by the thought.

“I suppose you’ll just have to keep that giant mouth of yours quiet,” Loki had responded, before ducking his head.

Speaking of lowered inhibitions, Loki is fourteen weeks pregnant when Thor decides to hold the drinking Jól celebration. It takes a little convincing on Thor’s part, but eventually, Loki agrees to use his seiðr to decorate the common room to match the festivities.

“Seiðr is the product of a Seiðrmadr’s connection with Yggdrasil,” Loki grouses as Thor hefts him up so he can spell fairy-lights across the ceiling. “It is literally the manipulating of the threads of fate. And you’re having me use mine to decorate for a party.”

“It looks lovely,” Thor comments as he sets Loki back down, and Loki has to admit that he _has_ done a particularly good job. Golden-warm fairy lights hang from the ceiling and trickle down the walls like fat rain drops. The same golden color is reflected in the cloths that line the many long tables that now occupy the room, set and prepared for the great feast that the volunteer cooks had spent all week preparing. Loki had even figured out how to make a little self-contained fire in front of the pilot’s chair-turned-throne. It’s particularly cozy.

“This will be good for all of us,” Thor says, reaching over to settle Loki into his side, one arm slung about his waist. “The sun returns, and a new dawn begins for the people of Asgard.”

Loki hums contemplatively, but says nothing, hand slowly coming up to rest over his navel.

He’s seen Svanhild four times since they both learned of his pregnancy. Each time, she settles Loki down on the cot and feels around his stomach, murmuring soft incantations under her breath. Each time, she tells him that both he and the babe are perfectly healthy. And, each time, she asks Loki if he’s told Thor yet.

Loki always answers with a guilty smile and a tip of his head.

“What is it that is keeping you from telling His Majesty?” She asks at his most recent session, while Loki is sitting with the projection of the baby’s aura cupped delicately in his hands.

“If I may be so bold.”

He looks up after a moment and sighs, dissipating the molecules with a twist of his hand. “There are...multiple reasons,” He says, rubbing a hand over his eyes. “Most of all being that he’s got enough on his plate as it is, with all of his duties. I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

“You know you’ll have to tell him eventually,” Svanhild points out mildly, carefully taking a prick of Loki’s blood from his middle finger. He yelps.

“What was that for?”

“You’re far enough along now that we might be able to tell the baby’s sex,” She says, spilling the blood into a container with a few other ingredients she’s been mixing while they chatter. The healer has gotten progressively more comfortable with Loki during their visits, and now, she is apparently comfortable enough to tell Loki exactly what she is thinking.

“It’s selfish of you to keep this child a secret, you know,” She scolds as she drags a pestle around in the strange mixture. “I’m sure His Majesty would be thrilled to know that he is soon to be a father. You’re near the end of your first trimester, now.” And she waves her hands at Loki to get him to lay back down flat on the cot, lifting his shirt so she can smear some of the dark red substance over his rounded stomach.

“…Svanhild?” Loki asks after a moment, wincing at the cold touch of the potion on his bare skin.

“Yes, Highness?”

“…does everyone know? About Thor and I?”

The healer looks up at him, grey eyes scanning his face. She sighs. “I think most of us adults have our suspicions,” She confirms, settling her palms over the sigils she’s painted on Loki’s stomach. They begin to warm. “Besides the more obvious things, his gaze follows you when you’re around. His smiles seem brighter when you enter a room, and he looks at you like you’re the sun itself.” She looks up and catches Loki’s eyes pointedly. “And you, whether or not you’ll ever admit to it, do the same.”

Loki’s cheeks go pink, and he fiddles with the hem of his tunic at his sides. “If I asked you something, would you promise to tell me the truth?”

Her smile goes a little teasing. “If you promise not to throw me in the brig, I suppose.”

Their gazes lock for a second before they both break off into chuckles. Loki grins a bit before he goes somber again.

“What did you think? When you found out about us, I mean.”

Svanhild is silent for a moment, save for the soft incantation she’s muttering under her breath. Loki’s stomach radiates heat, but it’s soothing instead of uncomfortable.

“You did ask for my honesty,” She reminds him. She waits for Loki’s nod to continue. “I was…uncertain, at first. With your past, and all. You were raised as brothers, and you have betrayed him more times than I can count on both my hands. I had suspicions that you were playing with his feelings for your own personal gain. Some of the people still do.”

Though Loki expected this, it still sets guilt sliding thick in his chest.

“I suppose I started changing my mind when you hefted him in here after he had stayed up for four nights straight and dropped from exhaustion. Astrid had to sequester you in the corner because you continued to fuss over him and get in everyone’s way.” Her smile is warm to match her eyes.

“He was so worried about caring for our wounded, he didn’t even spare a second to think of himself, the oaf,” Loki mutters under his breath, but the tips of his ears are warm.

“Yes, I think you’re the right fit,” Svanhild muses, and pinches Loki’s cheek playfully. His mouth drops open indignantly, and he’s about to say something when the warmth in his stomach suddenly recedes, leaving him feeling particularly chilled. When he looks down, the runes on his stomach have turned from dark red to a beautiful, soft green, that of fresh grass in the springtime. Svanhild gasps in delight.

“It’s a girl!”

She sends him away with a hug and a few suggestions for baby names (“I suppose you wouldn’t consider Svanhild the Second, would you?”), but not until after she takes him by the shoulders and wags a stern finger in his face.

“I know it is the season of Jól, but you are by no means to partake. Everything you have will make its way to the baby.” She says, pinching at his cheek again to make sure he’s listening. “His Majesty will just have to do the drinking for the both of you.” 

Loki makes up his mind after the visit. From what Svanhild had said to him, Loki could avoid the disdain of the people if he just avoided betraying Thor. Honestly, it sounds quite simple, but Loki acknowledges that, for him, it might be a great deal more complicated. Isn’t he technically betraying Thor at this very moment, by keeping the news of his daughter from him? He sighs and rubs his eyes. He’s going to tell Thor. Tonight. He’s going to let the alcohol loosen his brother up a bit, and then, when they return to his quarters, he’s going to sit him down and tell him of the pregnancy.

Thor is fussing about with the decorations when Loki returns to the common area, turning and looking at Loki guiltily as he holds up a wad of fairy-lights that were very much separate and untangled when Loki had excused himself to see Svanhild. The trickster gives him a look of disbelief before sighing and going over to him, separating the knot with a touch of his finger. Thor laughs heartily and sweeps him into his arms, spinning them around once. Loki is a bit woozy when Thor sets him back down on his feet, but, thank the Norns, it doesn’t make him ill.

“What was that for? Don’t tell me you’re already partaking before the festivities even begin,” Loki teases, settling down on one of the benches to right his off-kilter equilibrium.

“I’m simply in the Jól spirit!” Thor booms heartily, a wide smile painted across his face. Loki can’t help but relax a bit at the sight. Thor truly is in a good mood, and, once he’s even jollier by way of intoxication, Loki’s reveal is bound to go well.

People begin filtering in not much later, some carrying gifts made of what little they have left, all in good spirits and chattering with each other happily. They settle down in their seats and cheer as Thor stands at the front of the room, raising his mug to them in a toast. Loki watches from his seat at the head table next to Banner and Valkyrie, both of whom make him slightly uncomfortable, but he will manage, if only just for Thor’s sake.

“People of Asgard,” Thor booms, and the room quiets as all turn eager eyes on their king. “Tonight is for celebration, for camaraderie. I know we have all lost much in recent times. But I would ask that we spend this Jól celebrating what we have, rather than mourning what we do not.” He looks down and catches Loki’s gaze, giving him a sunny smile that sets Loki’s cheeks aflame. He can see Banner and Valkyrie looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Now begins the season of the resurrection of the Sun, when she chases away the darkness that has gathered to cultivate new life. Let us receive the gift of Sòl, and celebrate the new dawn that is upon us.” The people begin to roar with applause, and Thor thrusts his mug into the air.

“To Asgard!”

Loki’s own mug is filled with water, but he downs it anyway. If anything, this feast is an excuse for him to eat all the meat he can get his hands on, which ends up being an embarrassing amount. Thor even stops and gives him a curious look when Loki reaches for his third mutton leg.

“Quite the appetite today!” He says, but knowing Thor, it’s meant to be praise instead of a rebuke.

“I’m just in the Jól spirit,” Loki parrots back at him, and Thor guffaws and slaps him on the back, causing Loki to choke a bit and down another mug of water.

After Thor finishes eating, he excuses himself to go out and mingle with his people, third mug of some kind of ale in hand. Loki finishes soon after that, sighing contentedly and wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

“Pretty hungry tonight, weren’t you?” Valkyrie asks him with a knowing smirk. Loki clears his throat and folds his napkin, setting it on his empty plate. “And drinking water instead of wine during Jól?”

“Yes, well,” He says, suddenly uncomfortable. Banner looks between them, oblivious.

“Aren’t you afraid you might get ill?” She hums, looking up to catch his gaze challengingly. “I’ve heard you’ve been having problems keeping food down, recently.”

Banner gives her a look like he thinks that’s an odd thing to say, before a beat passes, and then another. And then the puzzle pieces seem to fall in to place, so to speak. He stands quickly, and Loki can see a tinge of green creeping at his collar.

“My blood pressure,” He mumbles, and then hurries off. 

“Good job,” Loki tells her sarcastically, before pushing back from the bench and standing up. “You might want to go check on him,” He adds over his shoulder. “Something tells me that this ship isn’t quite prepared to handle your Champion.”

He goes to Thor’s side and makes polite small talk with the groups of people that approach, eager to get a word in with the king. Most seem fairly friendly with Loki, though there are a couple that avoid his gaze entirely or seem to only talk to him in order to slip scathing remarks hidden as conversation in. Loki’s legs tire after a while, and he excuses himself to take a seat by the fire.

The fire pit has become a sort-of unofficial gathering grounds for the children, who squeal and chase each other to and fro, under the watchful eyes of a couple of teenagers who have taken up babysitting duty. Loki blinks and looks down at his foot as he feels something touching his boot, and catches the wide blue gaze of a babe. He recognizes this as Dag, the son of Turid, a single mother who had lost her husband during Hela’s final attack on the people of Asgard. Dag is the youngest citizen to have survived the disaster. He must be around eight months old, now.

“Ba,” The child says to him, and Loki can’t help but smile a little.

“Is that so?” He asks, carefully leaning down to scoop up the child and settle him on his thigh. “Not much on parties? I’ll let you in on a secret: neither am I.”

Dag bubbles out a laugh and reaches for Loki’s plait, which has grown long enough to sit over his shoulder. Loki lets him have it for a bit, until the babe gives a particularly rough tug and Loki winces, carefully freeing his trapped hair from Dag’s fist. When the babe begins to sniffle, eyes welling with tears, Loki panics a little.

“No, wait, wait,” He murmurs, before opening his palm to reveal a shimmering songbird crafted of magic. Dag’s blue eyes go wide, and he reaches for it with his tiny hands, squealing with delight when the bird flutters just out of his reach. They continue this game for a long while before Dag’s eyelids begin to droop heavily, and he falls asleep nestled into Loki’s chest.

The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck stand up, and, when he looks up, he catches Thor watching him from across the room. The god of thunder has obviously had a couple more mugs since Loki’s last seen him, as he’s leaning against the wall, cheeks flushed, gaze a little unfocused. But the open adoration he is watching Loki with is _intense,_ and, in that moment, Loki thinks Svanhild might have just been right. Maybe this will work out.

That warm, fuzzy feeling disappears instantly when Valkyrie steps back into his field of view, blocking Thor out.

“So what is it, then?” She asks, and the lilt to her voice clues Loki in on the fact that she’s apparently indulged since he last saw her, as well. “What are you hiding, silvertongue?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Loki says, voice carefully neutral. “But if you’d please keep your voice down. There are little ones about.”

“Little ones about, hm?” She slurs, and steps dangerously close to Loki’s personal space. “Obviously, we wouldn’t want to upset the little ones. Even the ones we don’t know about yet.”

Loki stands and takes a step away from her, securing Dag protectively to his chest. The babe lets out a little grunt, but continues to sleep.

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you, little silvertongue?” Valkyrie presses, advancing on Loki again and leaving him with no where to go but up against the wall. “Or is this a trick? A ruse to fool us all, to force Thor in to keeping you around? You know he’ll figure out you’re not worth the trouble. I bet you’re using your sorcery to fake it,” She goads, and Loki feels fury rise bitter in the back of his throat.

“I’m not,” He spits, tamping down the light that builds at his fingertips in order to protect the babe in his arms.

“Not what?” 

He raises his voice, anger shaking deep in its timbre. “I’m not faking.” 

“You’re not faking what?”

“I’m not faking!” Loki finally shouts, fury cresting like a storm in his chest. “I’m pregnant!" 

Three things happen all at once, then. The room goes silent. Dag wakes with a start and begins to cry. And, finally, Valkyrie smirks and steps aside to reveal a thunderstruck Thor, who had obviously seen what was going on and was in the process of coming to put an end to it. She had _planned_ this. She had goaded Loki into it.

Thor is drunk, but he’s not deaf, and he’s not stupid. Loki has a split second to shove Dag into Valkyrie’s arms as the gears in Thor’s head begin to turn.

And then, Loki turns tail, and he runs.


	4. I Just Can't Pretend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It’s a girl,” Loki offers quietly, and Thor’s eye goes bright with stars. 
> 
> “A girl,” he breathes reverently, both hands coming down to stroke at Loki’s belly in wonder. “A little princess.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to chapter four! First, I’d like to personally thank every single one of you who left feedback on chapter three. I appreciate it so deeply. I hope to keep your suggestions, criticisms and opinions in mind as I continue to write this story and the stories I write in the future. On that note, Thor and Loki’s conversation here ended up being longer than I anticipated, so I decided to make it into its own separate chapter. So enjoy ~5000 words of comfort and smut! (I certainly needed it!) There will most definitely be a sixth chapter now.

Loki intends to leave. He really does. Loki’s fight or flight reflex has been triggered, and he never fights when he can flee.

When Loki skids around the corner back into his quarters, he slams and bars the door, and starts gathering what he deems to be important to take with him. (It’s not much). He has Frigga’s hair comb, the dagger Thor gave him, and a few other trinkets and possessions in a messenger bag when he stops and has to take a deep breath to calm his racing heart. There’s no way he’ll be able to reign in his seiðr in the state he’s in, but he needs to get out of here before someone comes after him. Before _Thor_ comes after him.

He sinks to the floor, legs crossed, trying to lull himself into a meditative state. It works for all of a minute before pounding comes at his door. Loki sets his jaw and stays stubbornly silent, trying to force his heart rate not to jump.

“Loki, I know you’re in there.” Thor’s voice is deep and steady. The shock probably helped in sobering him up, a bit. Then again, Thor has always been able to hold his drink particularly well.

Loki remains silent, hands trembling where they’re folded against each other in his lap. If he stays quiet, perhaps Thor will assume he’s already left and give up. That will give Loki enough time to calm his frayed nerves and _actually_ get himself off of this damned ship.

“I know you haven’t left,” Thor says, and Loki curses silently. “You can be more, remember? I told you I believed that. I still do.”

He has nothing to say to Thor. What _would_ he say to Thor? “Oh, sorry, I completely forgot to mention the fact that I’m pregnant with your firstborn, you’ll be pleased to know it’s a girl”? “Surprise, you’re going to be a father, tonight was all part of my plan”?

“I’m going to stay here,” Thor continues, and his voice sounds tired. “I’m not leaving, Loki. Let me in or I’m going to stay until you open the door.” Gone are the threats of breaking the door from months ago, when Thor and Loki sat in a similar situation. The situation that landed them in this mess in the first place, to be exact. He’s grateful for that, at least. Loki remains mute for a few minutes, until he hears a heavy sigh and the sound of Thor sliding down against the wall.

“Alright. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

Loki doesn’t sleep at all. He curls up on the floor for a while, trying to will himself to rest, but it evades him. Thor’s right, ultimately. Loki won’t run. Even when he feels calm enough to summon his seiðr, he can’t bring himself to speak the spell that will send him far, far away.

In the wee hours of the morning, Loki stands and tiptoes to the door, checking out of the peephole. Thor is slumped against the opposite wall, fast asleep (Loki can tell by the horrid snoring that he only hears when Thor is particularly tired). Seeing him like that, exhausted, propped up against the wall, neck at an awkward angle, makes Loki’s heart give a squeeze. He collects a quilt off his bed, delicately undoing the latch and opening the door silently.

Thor doesn’t wake as Loki approaches, though Loki half-wishes that he would. He carefully covers Thor in the quilt, before stepping back and looking him over, sighing. Thor’s hair is mussed beyond help, and his eye patch is starting to slip off his face as he slumbers. The patch is, really, a symbol to Loki of how things have changed over the years. He remembers his brother in his youth: brash, energetic, a bit pompous. Thor as a child had wanted the throne only for glory, for power. He believed that being a king meant waging war, and destroying your enemies.

Loki snorts at the irony. In a relatively short time, Thor’s gone from wanting to wage war on the Frost Giants to siring a daughter by one. He carefully squats in front of Thor and moves his bangs across his forehead with a gentle touch. In a few short years, his brother has also grown to be a kind, benevolent king, one who cares deeply for his people and their well-being. Loki remembers a time, not so long ago, that he had believed Thor’s rule would mean the ruin of the Asgardian people. Now, he sees, it’s actually their saving grace.

He’s so lost in thought that he misses the obvious shifting that comes as Thor wakes slowly, and he starts when his hand comes up and encircles Loki’s wrist in a light grip. Loki jerks and moves back, easily breaking Thor’s hold.

“Loki…” Thor says softly, voice slurred with sleep. The trickster watches him with guarded eyes, considering, before he sighs and offers Thor his hand.

“Don’t sleep out here,” He murmurs, and helps Thor up. The king doesn’t let go of Loki’s hand when he’s upright, though, instead choosing to entwine their fingers together. Loki leads him back to the bed, and Thor immediately curls around him like some great cat. His hand slides down to cup over the swell of Loki’s stomach protectively, and no more words pass between them.

Loki sleeps like the dead that night, tucked safely into Thor’s chest.

He awakens slowly the next morning, every muscle in his body screaming at him to just turn over and fall back asleep. But something has awoken him, and Loki groans softly and blinks his eyes open, rubbing at them to clear the blur.

The first thing he registers is Thor’s face. His remaining blue eye is scanning over Loki’s own, and he offers Loki a small, but warm, smile when Loki meets his gaze. Loki returns it hesitantly.

The next thing he registers is the hand gently rubbing circles on his stomach, as if Thor’s trying to fit the whole of Loki’s little bump into his wide palm. Thor is propped up on one elbow over him, and Loki has no idea how long he’s been awake, watching Loki as he slumbers.

“It’s a girl,” Loki offers quietly, and Thor’s eye goes bright with stars.

“A girl,” he breathes reverently, both hands coming down to stroke at Loki’s belly in wonder. “A little princess.” It’s silent for a moment, as Thor seems to take this in, and Loki lays his head back against the pillow, heart fluttering like a caged canary in his chest. A shadow falls over his face after a moment, and Loki looks up to see that Thor has moved to lean over him, hand coming to cup his cheek.

The kiss he presses to Loki’s mouth is lingering and soft, and it has the trickster breathing out shakily against his lips.

“You are far too good at taking this in stride,” He says weakly when Thor pulls back, foreheads pressed together and sharing each other’s air.

“You keep me on my toes,” Thor teases back, and it actually makes Loki laugh, hands coming up to stroke at Thor’s bearded cheeks. 

Their smiles fade soon enough though, and Thor looks up at him, somber.

“Why?”

Loki sighs. He knew this conversation was coming (he’s known it’s been coming since he set foot on this ship, since instead of getting up the morning after and quietly disappearing, he turned and nestled closer into Thor’s chest.) He’s not prepared. He supposes he could never be prepared, not for something like this. This is the crux of the rift that exists between them, though it is rapidly closing every day: Loki’s secret history, the things he’s done that he guards jealously.

“Where do I even start?” He murmurs, and Thor gentles kisses across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in a gesture of comfort. “I suppose we’ll begin here: when I fell from the Bifrost.” He can feel Thor tense against him: he knows Thor still believes Loki’s fall was, in part, his fault for not hanging on. What Thor doesn’t realize is that he couldn’t make Loki stay, no matter how strong his grip. Loki had wanted to fall. Loki had wanted to disappear.

“I fell for eons,” Loki murmurs, a hand threaded through Thor’s short locks as the god of thunder continues trailing dry kisses across Loki’s skin. “Or what felt like it. When I awoke, I was somewhere I had never seen before, with a being who claimed to be my savior.” Loki’s mouth twists into a bitter smile. “He was not. He tortured me, pushed my body to its breaking point, over and over until I thought I would split at the seams. And when he realized that I wouldn’t break, he crawled inside of my mind. Twisted my thoughts until I could no longer tell what was mine and what was his.”

Thor has pushed up by this point, hovering over Loki on his hands and knees. His face is pained, though Loki can tell he’s trying to mask the emotion for his sake. Thor has never been good at hiding what he’s feeling.

“What did he want?” Thor asks, and Loki thumbs along his cheekbone delicately.

“Information,” He says. “About Asgard, about the Bifrost. About you.”

“Me?”

“I didn’t give it to him,” Loki defends weakly. “But he did take it, eventually. He takes everything that he wants.”

“And what does he want?”

Loki’s eyes close for a moment, and he heaves a sigh. “The infinity stones.”

“Like the tesseract,” Thor posits, and Loki confirms with a weak nod.

“There are six of them. Energies older than the universe itself, with infinite power. He intends to gather them. To what end, I am unsure,” Thor’s searching his face again, and Loki gives a weak shrug. “All I can tell you is that it won’t be good.”

It takes his brother a moment. Thor may be an oaf, but he’s not stupid, and realization splits his face. “You have one.”

Loki’s silence confirms Thor’s suspicion, and he sits back on his heels for a moment, running his hands through his shorn hair. Loki misses his heat immediately.

“I took it when I destroyed Surtur’s helm in the fire,” Loki explains quietly, watching Thor’s face for any flash of anger. “It wouldn’t have been destroyed with Asgard. Infinity stones _cannot_ be destroyed. Thanos would have found it had I not taken it. Thanos will still find it. But, if I can help it, it won’t be easy to find.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?” Thor asks after a moment, and Loki heaves a sigh.

“Thor, you don’t trust me.”

Thor opens his mouth, but Loki gives him a look. “Don’t lie to me.”

His mouth closes, and Thor takes a moment to think before he tries again. “Loki,” he says softly, and takes both of Loki’s hands in his. “I trust you with my life. I know, when it comes to the end, that you will do the right thing. Am I afraid you might disappear, sometimes? Yes. But I do not blame you for it. You’ve been living like this for a long time now, no home, no one to return to.” He makes sure Loki is looking at him as he puts his hands to his mouth, kissing the top of each. “Let me be that person. Let our daughter and I be the reason you come back home.”

Loki is shell-shocked. Tears spring to his eyes, unbidden, and he swiftly frees one of his hands from Thor’s to wipe them away. There Thor goes again, telling him exactly what he needs to hear. The oaf will be his ruin. And, likely, his salvation.

Thor leans down to kiss away a tear that escapes Loki’s watch. “We’ve bested every challenge that has been brought to us,” He says. “Every seemingly impossible battle, Loki, we’ve faced together. And we are still here. We still have each other. I have a hard time believing that this Mad Titan could best a formidable pair such as us, especially when our little one arrives. She’ll be stronger than the both of us, I can already tell.” His soft smile holds all the warmth of the sun. “Everything we do, now, we do together.”

Loki pulls his hands from Thor’s again, but this time, it is to cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss. Thor grunts softly in surprise, Loki’s not one to initiate shows of affection. But he’s obviously pleased by it, if how he relaxes against Loki and lets him lead the kiss is any indication.

“I’m sorry,” Loki breathes as he pulls back. He is always awed by the compassion Thor holds in his heart, seemingly unlimited. “That I didn’t tell you about her.”

“I’m disappointed,” Thor says, “but only because I was not able to care for you like I should have. You must have been terribly frightened, to have been facing this on your own.”

“Svanhild knows,” Loki says, before adding, quickly, “don’t blame her for not telling you. It was at my behest.”

“I wouldn’t blame her for that,” Thor points out, before slipping down Loki’s torso so his face is level with Loki’s navel. “I am glad you had someone to look after you, to talk to about this.”

“I’ve been seeing her every week so she can monitor the baby,” And Loki’s voice goes a little high with laughter when Thor’s beard scratches the skin of his belly. “She says that the child is perfectly healthy, though going into the second trimester, we must be careful. The child will be half-Jötunn, and none of us really know what that means in terms of how she will grow and what she will need to thrive.”

“We will be duly diligent, then,” Thor notes, before a silly smile crosses his face. “Hello, Thor Junior,” He says to Loki’s belly, and Loki snorts harshly.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Fine,” Thor concedes with a pout, before catching Loki’s eyes and grinning teasingly. “Thora it is, then.”

“Stress is bad for the baby,” Loki grouches, before squirming as Thor presses a bristly kiss to his navel. “And you are stressing me.”

“Do you have any better ideas?” Thor asks, and Loki gives him a look of exasperation.

“You mean literally any other name than either of those?” He says, eyes widened balefully. To be honest, though, he hasn’t really put much thought in to names, not with everything else that has required his attention lately. “We have time, Thor. About six months of it, if Jötunar pregnancies are similar to Aesir in that way. We have plenty of time to think of names.”

Thor is suddenly serious, such a change in emotion that it gives Loki whiplash. “I want it to be a fitting name for her,” He says, somber, looking up to catch Loki’s gaze. “For our little miracle. Loki, do you know how happy you make me? Even more so now?”

Loki is turned round by the display, and he can only gawp at Thor inelegantly, gears in his mind grinding to a halt.

“I love you,” Thor says, sitting up to take Loki’s hands in his. “Loki, I’ve loved you for decades. Since before I knew what love was. I’ve spent all my life thinking that I couldn’t have you. But, by some miracle of the Norns, here you are. Carrying our daughter. It’s all I could ask for.”

“Thor…” Loki murmurs, speechless, and Thor takes his face between his overly-large hands.

“You are my clarity,” He brushes their noses together, and Loki’s eyes blur with tears. “The light in my life, the voice in my dreams. If I could control destiny, we would never again part. Even though that is not my decision to make, I will work for the rest of my life to stay by your side.”

It’s in that moment that it hits Loki. He’s spent his life believing that he has no home, no place where he belongs. Even before he knew of his true heritage, he never felt as if he belonged within his family, within the palace, not really. He was dark and quiet, content to spend days in the cool library, pouring over books until he knew the runes by heart. His parents and his brother were golden, warm and vibrant, and they flourished around people and would rather be out in the sunlight than sequestered away.

He’s an idiot. It’s been in front of him this whole time, and he’s been too blind to see it.

Thor _is_ his home.

His sob of realization is caught in Thor’s mouth as he takes Loki’s lips in a deep kiss, pressing himself against Loki as if he wishes to fill every dark corner within the trickster with his light. Thor gently lays Loki back against the pillows, swiping his tongue against the seam of Loki’s lips before exploring every inch of his mouth when it’s opened to him.

“I love you, too,” Loki gasps out when Thor lets him have his breath back. His brother smiles brilliantly, lightning incarnate, before leaning down and sealing his mouth against Loki’s neck.

Loki gasps and arches, moaning fitfully as Thor worries a dark mark right over where his pulse is racing fast under his skin. His brother moves to the other side of his neck, sucking another bruise in a place Loki realizes will show above his collar. Thor is _claiming_ him; he wants people to see what they’re up to. It makes Loki almost feel like Thor is _proud_ to have him, and the thought makes him almost instantly hard.

“Fuck,” Loki gasps as Thor pulls Loki’s shirt over his head before working on his own. His brother presses back down to slide their bare chests together before tutting softly.

“Language, beloved. There are little ears about.”

Loki is about to retort when Thor ducks to lap at one of his nipples, sending electricity shooting through Loki’s body. His breasts haven’t grown much (he’s unsure if they ever will), but his nipples have become extremely swollen and sensitive. He assumes this means he’ll begin producing milk at some point, but he knows just about as much (or as little) as everyone else. He obviously didn’t go through the same adolescence and sexual maturation as other Jötunar, not to mention the fact that he is a veritable runt amongst his kind.

“You’ll feed our daughter?” Thor asks, as if he’s reading Loki’s mind.

“As far as I know,” Loki says, letting out a gusty moan as Thor ducks down to continue to suckle. “There is much I still do not know about Jötunar biology. Neither do any of the healers.”

“There must be someone who knows,” Thor says, determined. “We will find them.” And then he goes back to turning Loki into a veritable mess.

Once he’s done properly abusing Loki’s already-swollen nipples (Loki almost comes when Thor takes one between his teeth and bites firmly), Thor mouths down his torso until he comes face-to-face with Loki’s rounded belly. He takes time here to kiss every inch of skin, hands running over the trail his mouth leaves behind.

After a while of this, Loki begins rocking his hips impatiently, his dual-sex aching for attention. Thor provides after shooting Loki a teasing smirk, nipping at Loki’s hipbones before moving up to tongue at the head of Loki’s weeping cock.

Loki bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he tastes blood, hands twisting in the sheets beneath him as he tries to keep himself from thrusting up into the wet heat of Thor’s mouth. The oaf goes torturously slow, placing kitten licks around the head before taking him in, inch by inch. When Thor’s mouth touches the base of Loki’s cock, the trickster yelps in surprise as he feels two fingers slide into his cunt.

Arching, Loki’s head slams back into the pillows behind him, and he lets out a high-pitched mewl that he will absolutely deny later. He’s caught between working his hips down onto Thor’s fingers or up into his mouth, and he flounders helplessly between the two before Thor brings his free hand to replace his mouth on Loki’s cock, instead smoothing his lips against Loki’s.

Loki can taste himself on Thor’s tongue, and he lets out a desperate noise, pressing up against him.

Then Thor begins speaking.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” He breathes out against Loki’s lips, voice deep with arousal. “Full of my fingers. Full of my child,” and Loki jerks and gasps at the spark of heat this sends flying down his spine. “You won’t glamour our child away anymore, will you?” He asks, and Loki shakes his head weakly, dazed.

“Perfect,” Thor purrs, and curls his fingers to hit the spot inside of Loki that makes him see stars. “Everyone will know you’re carrying our child, Loki. And they’ll know that I put her there, inside of you. That I bred you until you conceived.” And Loki doesn’t know if he wants to slap a hand over Thor’s stupid mouth or beg him to fuck him until he can’t walk.

“How proud I’ll be, to walk around the ship with you by my side,” Thor continues, and Loki cries out at the twist Thor puts on his next stroke of Loki’s cock. “My beloved, who carries not only my child, but my heart.”

Thor times his next stroke with a jab of fingers into Loki’s g-spot, and the double-orgasm it triggers in Loki makes him let loose a howl, body going taut as a bow before he collapses back into the sheets, panting as if he’s just run a race.

The ease of Thor’s cockhead against his cunt doesn’t surprise Loki, but what does surprise him is when Thor taps on his nose softly to get him to open his eyes. Loki does, spent and questioning.

“Will this hurt the babe?” He asks softly, and Loki laughs breathlessly before shaking his head no.

“Just be gentle,” He says, and Thor slides in easily, aided by Loki’s release.

Loki comes back to himself as Thor rocks into him carefully, and he decides he needs to prove that he’s not just called Silvertongue for nothing.

He presses up slowly, winding his arms around Thor’s neck before dragging his tongue along Thor’s earlobe, making the god of thunder shudder.

“That makes you proud, doesn’t it?” He whispers, nibbling softly. “That you broke me, managed to breed me until I was so full that I just had to let your seed plant within me?” Thor picks up speed with a growl, and Loki smirks against his skin.

“You know that you’re the only one who could ever do this to me, don’t you? I’d never let anyone else even try. Though, I suppose the mortals didn’t assign your secondary title as god of fertility for nothing.” This time, Loki shifts his hips to meet Thor’s thrust. “What will do you after I’ve had this one? Breed me again and again? How many babies will you put inside of me, Thor? Will you keep me pregnant always, as a sign that you’ve managed to tame me?”

“You’re not a wild animal to be tamed, Loki,” Thor forces out, but Loki can tell he’s on the edge.

“Oh, but I feel like one when you fuck me,” Loki teases, threading his fingers through the hair at the base of Thor’s skull and pulling softly. “Like how all I can think about his your big, fat cock sliding in and out of my wet cunt. Even when you aren’t inside of me, it’s all I can think about.”

The pained moan Thor lets out makes Loki chuckle darkly, and he dips his head to leave a mark at the junction just under Thor’s ear, a matching claim to the bruises on his own neck. “You know, every other partner I’ve had, I’ve imagined it was you.” And there’s the ticket. Thor’s hands tighten around Loki’s hips, and he’s suddenly knocked onto his back.

“Loki,” Thor growls in warning, and Loki can feel electricity crackling, hidden, in the air.

“How do you think I managed to get myself in the Grandmaster’s good graces so quickly on Sakaar?” He goads, and Thor’s remaining eye sparks white for a moment. “But he was pitifully lacking, I’m afraid. I hardly even came when he was rutting into me like some sort of dog.”

Thor’s hand lands on his chin, and he shakes a bit to get Loki to make eye-contact. “No-one else, Loki,” He growls, but his hips maintain a steady, careful pace, obviously still cognizant of the babe. “No-one else, ever again.”

“No-one else,” Loki agrees, before he tightens his muscles to milk Thor’s cock with his next thrust. “I love you, Thor.”

Thor moans, low and deep, and Loki feels Thor’s release flood his insides.

They lie like that for a while, tangled up in each other, until both of their heartbeats calm. Loki is tracing nonsense shapes on Thor’s chest when the god of thunder finally speaks again.

“I’m serious about that,” he says, and Loki looks up, curious. “No-one else. For me, or you.” And Loki lets out a little laugh, fond at Thor’s unfounded jealousy.

“I know,” Loki replies, and places a kiss right over Thor’s heart. “I was only teasing. I didn’t mean harm by it.”

Thor is silent for a couple moments more, and Loki is beginning to worry a bit when Thor rolls over to sit up, tugging Loki close and lacing their hands together. “Marry me,” He says with determination, and Loki chokes on air.

“W—what?”

“Marry me. Tomorrow, I want to announce our daughter to the people as well as the fact that I’m taking you as my consort.”

Loki’s head is spinning, and he knows he’s gawping like a fish.

“Loki, there’s no-one else,” Thor says, squeezing his hands tight in Thor’s own. “You are my perfect match. Level-headed, quick of wit and thought, a master strategizer and a wonderful speechmaker. The people of Asgard will be lucky to have you as royal consort, and, when the time comes, their Queen. _I_ would be lucky to have you as my Queen.”

“You’ve gone mad,” Loki sputters when he finds his breath again.

“With love, maybe,” Thor acknowledges, but his face is nothing but earnest. “Marry me,” He says again, and Loki feels his heart in his throat.

“I won’t take another,” Thor murmurs after a moment, one hand coming up to cup Loki’s cheek. “You are the only one I want by my side. Whispering your plans in my ear, scolding me when I make rash decisions, helping me make a new home for our people. We have always been flawed rulers. But, together, we could be perfect.”

“And the people?” Loki forces out after a moment, and Thor shakes his head softly.

“I think they’ll receive you better than you’re assuming,” He says, tucking a stray curl behind Loki’s ear. “Loki, you’ve been wonderful with them. Listening to them at council, healing their wounds, reading to their children in tutoring sessions, you’re doing everything right. They loved you before, their dark little prince, who ate like a bird and could best any citizen in a battle of wits.” Thor smiles warmly, pressing their foreheads together. “They will love you again. Some already do.”

Loki’s heart aches in want. It sounds _wonderful,_ the future Thor is detailing for him. It also sounds too good to be true, and Loki worries his lower lip as his thoughts race, logic dueling with his rarely-loosed sentiment.

“You do not have to answer now,” Thor says softly, squeezing Loki’s hands. “If tomorrow I announce only the expected arrival of our daughter, I will still be the happiest man in all the realms. But if—“

“Yes,” Loki interrupts, almost despite himself.

Thor blinks, once, twice. “Yes?” He asks dumbly, before his brain seems to catch up with his mouth. The smile he gives Loki is dazzling.

“Yes, you oaf,” Loki replies, before pushing into Thor’s lap, wrapping his arms tight around his brother’s neck. “I’ll marry you.”


	5. No Longer Comatose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These people have been far too kind to Loki, given his past. Is it too wishful to think, that, perhaps, they could be accepting of his true heritage as well? He returns the small smile Svanhild is giving him before turning back to Thor. He doesn’t have much of a choice now, but maybe, just maybe, this can work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's it going, everyone? Welcome to chapter five! I hope I didn't keep anyone waiting too long! I was without my laptop for three days this week, so this chapter ended up being a little later than I intended. I'm sorry about that! I hope you all enjoy regardless. As always, thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read and tell me what you think about my work!
> 
> Now, onwards!
> 
> This chapter contains non-graphic descriptions of past abuse.

They ultimately decide to keep the engagement quiet until the birth of their daughter. After all the giddy excitement between the two of them wore off (along with another two rounds of sex), Loki’s pragmatic brain turned itself back on.

“Don’t you think an engagement _and_ the arrival of a royal heir might be a little too much to dump on the people entirely at once?” Loki had asked after their second bout in which he had ridden Thor until the king had asked Loki nicely if he could please come. “Considering the fact that we’re essentially on damage control now, after what your…scrapper did at Jól. The pregnancy is not only a _pregnancy_ , Thor. We’re going to have to explain my history to the people, as well as my…biology. Besides your friends, Svanhild is the only one here who has been expressly told of my Jötunar heritage. Would it not be better to tell the people after she’s already born? When they are celebrating a new princess and have physical proof that I’m not just playing you for emotions?”

Thor hums and looks up from where he’s been weaving small braids into Loki’s dark locks, taking a moment of silence to contemplate. “And that’s why I’m taking you to rule beside me,” He says warmly after a moment, tying one of the braids off. “Always the strategist. I’ll defer to your judgment.” He catches Loki’s gaze. “I’m going to talk to Valkyrie about what she did,” He says. “It was inexcusable, her taking that decision from you. I will speak to her about it.”

Loki gives him a sideways glance, fingers sliding down to drum on the swell of his stomach. “Do as you must,” He says, but his voice is hard. “Whether she is remorseful or proud, I care not. She won’t be coming around the babe. Or me, if I have any say in it.”

Thor is silent for another moment, before he nods and presses up from where his cheek has been against Loki’s belly. “It is entirely your decision,” He says, kissing Loki’s forehead. “And I understand and respect it.”

There is no ring, though Loki asks for a small personal token to wear to symbolize the engagement. Together, they craft two polished silver bangles from the scraps of metal Thor had managed to save from Mjolnir’s demise: one for Thor to wear about his bicep and another for Loki to put on his wrist. They hold them up together and watch as they shine from the light coming from the galaxy beyond Loki’s window, and Loki truly believes he has never felt such happiness in his lifetime.

“My Queen,” Thor murmurs against his lips as they embrace after, and Loki presses into his lap and kisses him deeply.

After Thor spends a ridiculous amount of time soaping up Loki’s belly in the shower (“She needs to know that her Papa loves her very much!”) they redress in preparation to be seen by the public. Loki spends five minutes trying to pull one of his tunics on over his swollen stomach (he’s not going to glamour it away anymore: what’s the point?) before Thor makes a sound of realization and hurries out the door.

He returns shortly after with one of his own tunics and presents it to Loki, beaming proudly. It’s a dark, shimmering gold, entirely more Thor’s modus operandi than Loki’s own, but the trickster smiles and takes it gratefully anyways, pulling it on over his head.

It’s not horribly long on him (he’s only a few inches shorter than Thor, after all), but it is laughably wide, made for Thor’s muscular form rather than Loki’s lithe one. It doesn’t bother him, though. Loki finds he rather likes wearing Thor’s garments: they’re yet another outwards sign of Thor’s regard for him, along with the fact that the bruises Thor left on his neck the night before still stand stark against his pale skin. The tunic also makes him feel particularly...warm. Safe. Like Thor’s surrounding him even when they aren’t touching.

Loki snorts. Jötunar and their nesting instincts.

Thor leads him down the hallway to the medical wing with a protective hand at the small of his back. It is yet early enough that many of the Asgardians still slumber, or remain in the kitchens or the living quarters. They pass but four or five on their way to see Svanhild, and each stops to dip their head to he and Thor before continuing on their way. Loki hears hushed whispers as a pair of two women disappear around a corner.

Svanhild looks like she might pass out from delight when Loki pokes his head through the doorway to see if she’s in before tugging Thor inside with him. She chatters happily at the king while Loki strips his shirt off and settles on the cot, tuning them out so that he can focus on projecting his aura.

He knows it works when suddenly the two of them go quiet, and Loki opens his eyes to find aquamarine dancing in the air as he expected. The babe’s aura has grown inside of his own as she gestates, and the golden-teal section of molecules has begun to shift and move as Loki’s does.

“This is…?” Thor asks softly, awed, and Loki reaches out, gently cradling and taming the molecules until they exist in an ever-changing shape between his palms.

“This is her aura,” He explains, looking up to catch Thor’s gaze and beckon him closer. “Her essence of being within Yggdrasil.” He holds his hands out and urges Thor to take the amalgamation of light, helping him cup it between his palms.

Thor holds it as tenderly as he would a fledgling bird, and Loki’s heart gives an odd little tug. “You’ll find that it holds our auras combined,” He says, watching Thor’s eye widen with wonder, “but it also holds something new, something unique. This is the essence of our daughter.”

“She’s moving,” Thor marvels softly, and Svanhild speaks up from where she’s been watching them fondly.

“The babe’s quickening is bound to happen at any time now,” She says. “She will begin to move. This is when you can start to feel her kick.”

“Perfect,” Loki says, but his voice holds no real discontent. “I didn’t really need the sleep, anyways.”

Svanhild spends the next half hour slowly guiding Thor through all he needs to know, of what Loki and the baby will need during the upcoming months in order to keep them both happy and healthy. The information is largely heretofore known to Loki, so he spends the time watching Thor’s reactions. His brother—fiancé? King? What does Loki even call him now? His—His Thor listens to Svanhild, absolutely enthralled as she tells him of how Loki’s body is changing and growing to accommodate the child inside of him. He nods enthusiastically when Svanhild gives him a list of things she’d like him to watch for, and swears he’ll make sure that Loki and the child are properly taken care of.

Svanhild had seen Loki the day before, so the tests she performs on him are precursory, at best. This is why it concerns Loki when she pulls back after taking his temperature, eyebrows furrowed.

“You’re running a low-grade fever,” She says, pressing her palm back to Loki’s forehead and the sides of his neck. “Nothing to be horribly concerned about yet, but still. You’ll need to stay hydrated, and I’m going to send you back with some herbs to take at nighttime.” She looks to Thor. “Fevers during pregnancy are not normal for Aesir. It usually signals illness, but I have a hunch that this isn’t the case this time.”

“It’s my Aesir form,” Loki puts together, his own hand coming up to cup his neck as if he would be able to feel his own fever. “I’m starting to overheat again.”

Svanhild nods sagely, before digging around in her parcel of medications for something. “The child will be half-Jötunn,” she says, before pulling out a vial of some sort of liquid and a bowl. “Traditional Jötunar spend their pregnancies during the winter months, so their babies are born in the spring, when food is plentiful. While you are used to heat in your Aesir form, it is entirely possible that the baby is reacting negatively to it. You’re going to need to cool your internal temperature,” and she gives Loki a meaningful look before busying herself with whatever it is she’s crafting in her bowl.

“I’ll have to revert to my Jötunn form,” Loki says miserably, and Thor is immediately by his side.

“We’ll have to tell them of my heritage today,” Loki says to Thor as he takes Loki’s hands between his, “When we announce the pregnancy.”

“You are beautiful that way, as you are now,” Thor soothes, rubbing his thumb over the top of Loki’s hand. “Perhaps the revelation of your birth will quell the people’s fears of ours being an unnatural relationship.”

“Thor, when have you ever heard of an Aesir having a half-breed child with a Jötunn?” Loki asks, voice tinted sharp. “Not once in Asgardian history has an Aesir _ever_ interbred with another species, much less a _Frost Giant_. And if it has happened, society thought it to be so shameful that they purged all mention of it. If the people are relieved that we have not conceived a babe of incest, it will quickly be replaced by fear of a mixed-breed.”

“Loki, please,” Thor says softly. “The Asgardian people have accepted many who were not originally of Asgard into their ranks as of late. Don’t make their decision for them before you even give them the chance to hear us out.” He kisses Loki’s palms. “This baby is a sign, Loki. We have lost much of late. Much has been destroyed. But this babe can signal our vitality. The fact that no matter what Asgard may suffer, she will always rebuild.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Thor’s being entirely too optimistic again, and Loki opens his mouth to tell him that before he catches Svanhild’s gaze. Svanhild, an Asgardian, who has been nothing but kind to Loki despite knowing of his heritage. It makes him think of the others he’s gotten to know since boarding this ship. Eldotta, who had allowed Loki access to the meager supply of books she’d managed to salvage from Asgard’s vast library, and the eager children to which he read those books when Eldotta didn’t have a lesson planned. Asmund, the young volunteer chef, and his secretive smiles every time Loki would sneak a few candies or pieces of fruit from the kitchens to take with him to the lessons he taught. Gentle, happy Dag, and his mother Turid, symbols of hope and perseverance in the face of loss. And Eira, the old beggar sorceress, who would often sit with Loki late into the night, swapping spells and potions under the silver light of the stars.

These people have been far too kind to Loki, given his past. Is it too wishful to think, that, perhaps, they could be accepting of his true heritage as well? He returns the small smile Svanhild is giving him before turning back to Thor. He doesn’t have much of a choice now, but maybe, just maybe, this can work out.

Svanhild gifts Loki with what she had been crafting before they leave: a palm-sized clump of ice, which is spelled to never melt.

“For when you are feeling overheated,” She explains, and Loki is truly touched.

“Thank you,” He says, and pulls her into a hug. “Really, Svanhild. For everything.”

She sends him away with a flap of her hands and something suspiciously misty in her eyes, passing Thor a parcel of herbs and the instructions for taking them.

More Asgardians are out and about by the time they leave, and many pass them with curious glances as Thor and Loki walk side-by-side down the hallway, speaking quietly to each other about what Svanhild had said. After a moment, a young, blonde boy runs up to them, grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Hello, Taavi,” Loki greets him, recognizing the lad as one of Eldotta’s students.

“Hello, Mister Lo—I mean, your Highness,” Taavi corrects, and Loki chuckles a bit. “Mother said you were going to have a baby, and I got excited, so I asked her—“ He says in a rush, and Loki kneels a bit so he’s at Taavi’s height.

“Whoa, slow down, lad, take a deep breath,” He says good-naturedly, and the boy does, some of the alarming red color on his cheeks fading with the intake of oxygen.

“I asked her if I could draw you a picture,” Taavi says, before holding a piece of parchment out proudly. “And she said that would be a lovely way to tell you how excited I am about the new baby.”

Loki blinks softly, surprised, before taking the drawing from Taavi’s outstretched hands. It’s as skillfully drawn as an illustration by a seven-year-old can be, consisting mostly of stick figures. Loki’s own stick figure has black hair and is adorned in a green shirt, and is holding a stick-figure baby in one of his arms. Thor’s stick figure has yellow hair and a crown, and seems to be distressingly naked, though he’s sure that was not Taavi’s intention. Next to them is a shorter stick figure with yellow hair and a blue shirt, and an arrow pointing to it proudly declares “me! (Taavi).”

“This is lovely, Taavi,” Loki says after he clears his throat to keep his voice from shaking a bit. His awful pregnancy hormones are getting stronger by the day, and he blinks back tears stubbornly. “I will hang it up in my quarters. I very much appreciate it, thank you,” And he ruffles the boy’s blonde hair softly.

“I’ve always wanted a little brother,” Taavi says, pointing to the image of the baby on the page. “But my mother says she can’t have one for me right now, so I was thinking I could be your baby’s big brother for now!”

Loki hears Thor chuckle above him, and he straightens up so that he can hand Thor the drawing. The Thunderer looks over it with a bright smile for a moment, before looking down at Taavi.

“I’m sure you will be a wonderful big brother,” He says, and ruffles Taavi’s hair like Loki had done a moment ago. “Thank you, Taavi.”

Loki winks at the child and passes him a little wrapped chocolate he’d been saving in his pocket for an occasion such as this, and the child beams at him before tearing back down the hallway, just as hectic as he had come.

Loki knows Thor’s got a ridiculous smile plastered all over his face, the one he only dons when he’s right about something that Loki has missed (it’s not often).

“Shut up,” Loki grumbles, but his voice is far from displeased. In fact, he may or may not be hiding a small smile behind the wrist he presses against his mouth to cover the guise of a cough. “Come now, enough smirking. We have a people to address.”

They stop back at Loki’s quarters first to freshen up. Loki banishes the bruises sucked into the side of his throat with a wave of his hand (“Thor, honestly, don’t the people already have enough to talk about?”) He then settles in front of his mirror to carefully plait his hair back. In the past few months, he’s allowed it to grow and take its natural form, and it falls in loose black curls to rest at his shoulders.

Loki tucks an errant curl behind his ear as he stands, and turns to face Thor. His brother is standing in the middle of the room, watching Loki with the most heart-rottingly tender look on his face, and Loki makes an exasperated noise and waves his hand.

“Enough of that,” He proclaims, reaching down to tie the bottom of Thor’s tunic about his waist so it doesn’t hang so freely. “Fetch me my shawl from the closet. The green one.” Thor chuckles good-naturedly and does as he asks, coming up behind Loki to settle the cloth over his shoulders.

“You look wonderful already,” He teases softly, pressing a kiss to the now-porcelain skin where a dark bruise had been just moments ago. “Tell me I won’t have to sit here while you apply your cosmetics as well.”

“I was considering painting my nails,” Loki gripes back at him. “But I suppose that can wait. Honestly, Thor, not all of us are blessed with natural golden radiance such as yours.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Thor says, gathering Loki up in his arms and settling his chin on the crown of Loki’s head. “Radiance is not always golden. Sometimes it is silver, like starlight. Like the vast, swirling expanse of the galaxy, mysterious and beautiful.”

“Oh, get off of me,” Loki wheezes out against the crush of Thor’s ridiculous arms, managing to squirm himself free. “Who knew sentiment could get my battle-ready brother to wax poetic?”

“I have more poetry,” Thor calls after him, and Loki tosses a pillow in his face on his way out of the door.

The common room is bustling with people, as it normally is at this time of day. Loki settles off to the side while Thor activates the ship-wide communication system that has its base in the pilot’s chair. He calls for a meeting in an hour’s time, and those who are already gathered in the room exchange knowing looks with each other. Loki’s hands twitch from where he has them folded over his bump.

He looks up as Thor approaches and bends down to press a kiss to his temple. “Stay here,” Thor murmurs, and Loki’s about to protest when Thor gives him a reassuring smile before turning and walking down the steps and into the crowd. Loki watches him go for a bit before he realizes Thor’s intended target: Valkyrie has just entered the room with Banner, and she’s leaning against the wall nearest the exit with her arms crossed tensely.

Their gazes catch across the room for a moment, and Loki feels anger well bitter in the back of his throat. He can’t read her expression, even though he prides himself at being fairly good at interpreting body language. It’s not exactly apologetic, but it’s not exactly smug, either. She looks away when Thor reaches her, and he turns to greet Banner before motioning out the door to Valkyrie with his head. She follows.

Suddenly, Loki’s alone in a room filled with Asgardians, the same who had witnessed his emotional slip not a day prior. He tries not to focus on it as he settles down in the chair he has put aside for council meetings, pulling the book on Midgardian medicine he’d borrowed from Eldotta out of his pocket dimension.

He gets a page in when he hears someone clear their throat softly, and Loki blinks and looks up to meet the gaze of a ginger-haired woman with piercing grey eyes (Vada? Valda? It’s something along those lines, Loki is sure). Two young girls grip at her trouser legs, one with the same stunning red hair, the other with a deeper shade of brown. They look to be about three or four, yet too early to begin lessons, which is why Loki is unfamiliar with them.

“Your Highness,” The woman addresses with a slight dip of her head. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Valencia. These are my daughters, Rada and Calandra.” She motions to the children at her feet, and Loki offers them a small smile. “When, ah, Asgard was under attack, you helped free my husband from those horrid creatures that Hela had conjured so we could escape to the ship.”

Loki blinks. He remembers little from the battle itself, he had been so focused on tearing through undead warriors and avoiding being killed himself. He had also been a fair bit distracted by his own motives, or lack thereof. Honestly, when Loki had returned to Asgard to help Thor and his friends fight Hela, he wasn’t exactly sure why he was there or what he wanted.

He knows now.

“I just wanted to congratulate you,” Valencia continues, before offering a soft, unsure smile. “And let you know that if you have any questions about the little one, I would be happy to answer them. I certainly have the expertise,” And she ruffles the twin girls’ hair, sending them into giggles.

Loki’s mind catches up to his body, and he smiles back, posture becoming relaxed in his chair. “That is incredibly kind of you,” He says, tipping his head to the woman in thanks. “I appreciate it greatly, and will certainly take you up on your offer. Thank you.”

Valencia’s smile brightens and she opens her mouth to say something else, before the shrill sound of the ship’s proximity alarm cuts through the room. Loki’s just gotten to his feet when something batters into them, and the ship rocks to its core.

He’s knocked back against the wall. Dizzily, Loki stands again, and struggles his way to the pilot’s chair, activating the main HUD display across the floor-to-ceiling wall of window in front of him.

Most of the symbols and icons that flash before him mean nothing to Loki, but there is one thing that he can make out. “We’re caught in a tractor beam…?” He murmurs, before a button on the arm of the pilot’s chair begins to pulse with blue light. With his limited knowledge of the language used on Sakaar, Loki manages to make out the letters H-A-I-L. They’re being hailed.

Loki turns and looks back to the people gathered in the room with him. Most are starting to pull themselves back up from off the ground, faces concerned and some frightened. A few of the children have started to cry.

“Get to the center of the ship—“ Loki has begun to say, when the glass display in front of him fizzles and pops before an image begins to form.

One arm extended out, as if that could protect the crowd of people behind him, Loki turns to face the screen.

The image forms slowly. Loki first sees patches of blue, then gray, then brown, until they all solidify into a solid image of a being. A being, Loki realizes with a start, that he’s _familiar with_.

In his captivity under Thanos’ watch, beings would often come and go from the planet which Loki was imprisoned on. Loki didn’t often see much of them, as he was shut in a pitch-black cell more often than not, left alone with his own (?) thoughts until Thanos decided he was bored again.  But infrequently, when he was left out in the open (often after sustaining a few broken bones or a new burn to some part of his person), Loki would be privy to the conversations Thanos had with his visitors in-between bouts of unconsciousness.

By this point in his captivity, Loki had pieced together most of Thanos’ plan. He needed the six infinity stones, and Loki was to be one of the holders of a stone that he already possessed. In the meantime, Thanos was paying groups of criminals to scour the galaxy for the rest of the stones, often paying exorbitant amounts just for a lead to where one might be.

The Centaurian raider crew that arrived on the planet one day was nothing special to Loki, who was sprawled out at Thanos’ feet, at the edge of consciousness and bleeding from both ears. That was, until their leader spoke.

“We’ve found it,” the captain said, motioning back towards where their ship had landed. “The power stone. There’s just one problem: we can’t touch it. It vaporizes beings on-contact. I’ve lost a couple of my men just trying.”

Thanos had been silent for a moment, pondering. “It needs to be put in a vessel,” He said, before looking down to where Loki was dazed on the ground. “Silvertongue,” He barked, and Loki winced on instinct and curled up further. “Go with them,” And he had grabbed Loki by the back of his robes, pulling him roughly to his feet. “Try and contain the stone within this. I’d send someone more competent for the job, but I’d rather not risk any of my worthier minions being vaporized.” Thanos had shoved a heavy crystalline box into Loki’s hands, and shooed him off towards the raider crew.

The idiots had just left the stone uncontained, floating in their cargo hold. It had been surrounded in swirling purple matter, creating a veritable contained black hole that Loki posited would have sucked the whole ship inside had it been left to rage any longer. The crew stood back while their captain shoved Loki inside, and the trickster took a few calming breaths before advancing.

He couldn’t touch it without vaporizing. That much, he knew. This meant that the stone likely had no use to him in terms of escaping this wretched planet, but Hel if Loki was going to let his captor get his hands on a _second_ infinity stone.

Loki’s seiðr had languished in the months of his captivity, to the point where Thanos no longer had to torque him in order to contain it. He closed his eyes and prayed to whatever god or goddess might still be listening that he could reign it in now, and sobbed in relief when his hands flashed cerulean and the power stone vanished in an explosion of light to some distant corner of the universe.  

The raider captain, Dane, had told Thanos of what Loki had done. Loki, still the silvertongue, had earnestly told his new “master” that the crew had been lying to him to retrieve the reward, and they had been planning on killing Loki and claiming that the stone had done it.

The raider crew had been lucky to escape with their lives.

Loki’s luck is a little more questionable, he muses as Dane’s image snarls on-screen.

“Loki Silvertongue,” He spits, pure, raw hatred evident in his voice, and Loki steels his jaw.

“Dane,” He greets, voice carefully controlled. “To what do I owe this…visit?”

“Well, I’ve been receiving off-the-charts power readings from this quadrant of the galaxy for some time now,” Dane says, eyes narrowed. “And now I suppose I know why. You know we’re still hunting the gems for the Mad Titan, yes? And he’s getting closer and closer to having them all. He’s just missing a couple…and I think I’ve just found one.”

The sound of a door slamming open behind him makes Loki jump, and he turns to see that Thor and Valkyrie have returned, obviously feeling the kickback from the tractor beam that they’re caught in. Thor takes in the scene before him, eye going wide, before he bustles through the crowd of people and up the stairs towards Loki.

“Loki—“ He starts, but Loki holds a palm out to him, face pleading. _Please, Thor,_ it says. _Let me handle this._

His brother pauses and takes a slow step back, lingering at the edge of the platform.

“If I remember correctly,” Loki begins, turning back to Dane, “Raiders live by a code, do they not?”

Dane pauses and frowns, uncertain of where Loki’s trying to take this. “We do.”

“And detailed in that code is that Raiders do not deal in children, is it not?”

“…It is.”

“You’ll see,” Loki says, before gesturing behind him. “That upon this ship are many children. Those you see behind me are the last of the Asgardian race. I am sure word has reached the outer rim about the planet’s demise. Your business does not, then, I should hope, include those who are on this ship and simply seeking a safe place to settle.”

“It does not.” Dane acknowledges, and Loki hears a chorus of relieved noises from the people behind him.

“Your business lies with me,” Loki says, and that seems to be the breaking point for Thor’s silence.

“ _Loki—“_ He warns, and comes up behind him, wrapping a protective arm around his waist. Loki shushes him quickly, giving Thor a look out of the corner of his eye that he’s seen a thousand times. _Let me get us out of this mess,_ it says. Previously, it was reserved for when one of Thor’s ridiculous plans had evoked Odin’s wrath, and Loki had to talk their way out of it.

“I am with child,” Loki tells Dane, and the captain’s jaw drops in shock as Loki carefully moves aside his tunic to reveal his obvious bump. “If Raiders do not deal in children, the same code should hold fast to those which have not been born yet.”

“You’re lying, that’s impossible,” The captain snarls. “This is just one of your tricks, Silvertongue.”

“It is not,” Loki says, voice calm, before he takes a deep breath. And he lets his glamours, his armor, his shield that he hides behind, melt away. Thor’s grip tightens on his waist in alarm, but Loki is serene. He knows what he is doing.

There’s a murmur of voices behind him, and, taking a chance, Loki turns his back on Dane to address the Asgardian people who are gathered behind him.

“I am Loki Laufeyson,” He says, chin tipped high and voice raised so it carries throughout the room. “Jötunn by birth, but son of Asgard. I carry the heir of Asgard within me, a daughter made of ice and lightning incarnate.” He feels Thor move up behind him, resting his hand lightly on Loki’s bump.

“It is my duty not only to protect my child, but to protect these people,” He says, before turning back to Dane. “And I will not let harm come to them.”

It is silent for one heart-wrenching moment, and Loki stares Dane down, gaze unflinching.

“…and no harm will come to them,” Dane concedes after a moment more, and Loki’s knees tremble with relief. Thor’s hand on his waist keeps him from collapsing, for which Loki is infinitely grateful.

“Thanos intends to destroy everything,” Loki says, taking a step forward out of Thor’s grasp “I’ve seen his mind. Life will be a thing of the past if he receives all that he desires. There must be some sort of Raider code for that,” He tips his head for emphasis. “I implore you think about it before you go searching for the next stone.”

Dane is silent for another moment, before he lifts his head once more to meet Loki’s gaze. “Well met, Loki Laufeyson of Asgard.” He says, before lifting his hand in the traditional Raider salute. “Safe passage to you and your people.” And Loki returns the gesture, holding it until the screen flickers black, and the ship lurches again as it is freed.

He does collapse then, knees finally giving out on him as adrenaline seems to rush his system all at once.

Thor hurries to him, offering Loki a hand and helping him stand on shaking legs. He’s immediately crushed to a broad chest, and Thor is murmuring words into his hair.

“You were brilliant,” He gasps, voice thick with emotion. “Loki, you were _brilliant_ ,” And he catches Loki’s lips in a deep kiss, searing Loki with heat down to the frozen pits of his Jötunn heart.

He only becomes aware of the other people in the room again as, slowly, the sound of clapping begins. And it grows, one person by one person, until the room is filled with deafening applause. Loki breaks away from Thor to turn and look out over the crowd, watching some jumping in joy and some hollering and whooping as they lift their loved ones in their arms.

The ground suddenly disappears from under him, and Loki absolutely _does not_ squeak as Thor hefts Loki into his arms, tucking him in a bridal-carry. The King of Asgard stands before his people, and a hush falls over the crowd.

“To Loki Laufeyson of Asgard!” He proclaims, and the people again break into thunderous applause.

Loki hides his tears in Thor’s tunic, and something deep in his icy Jötunn being glows warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clear up some confusion: a couple people have pointed out that in Norse mythology and the comics (I believe?), Odin's mother (Thor's grandmother) is Jötunar. I'm writing this fic to the MCU canon, in which this has not been addressed or mentioned, explaining Loki's statements about Aesir not interbreeding with other species.


	6. Another Day Goes By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are questions. Loki hadn’t expected everything to end with a crowd of people cheering for him, because, well, when did it ever? When the applause had died down and Loki had dried his tears, he and Thor sat down on the steps to address the people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! After a nineteen-hour car ride (with someone else driving, of course!) I had more than enough time to write and edit this chapter. Think of it as an early Christmas present if you celebrate that way! Otherwise, this is my end of year present for you.

There are questions. Loki hadn’t expected everything to end with a crowd of people cheering for him, because, well, when did it ever? When the applause had died down and Loki had dried his tears, he and Thor sat down on the steps to address the people.

Loki looks over the room. Most of the people have settled down in chairs, or against walls or on the floor. Svanhild is settled in a corner of the room with her fellow healers, and when Loki catches her gaze, she smiles and gives him a nod. He returns it, hand snaking into his pocket to grip the never-melt ice crystal she’d gifted him with. The cool, smooth texture soothes his frayed nerves and seems to give him some of his sapped strength back.

“I suppose you have questions,” Loki speaks after a moment, and there are murmurs of confirmation from the Asgardians seated in the room. Thor’s hand finds Loki’s on his lap, and he squeezes softly. “We will answer all the questions that we can, but first, let me tell you of my past.”

“I was born on Jötunheimr,” Loki begins, free hand coming up subconsciously to smooth over the small horns protruding from his hairline. “To King Laufey. I am unsure of my dam, though it is safe to say that she was likely just as small for our species as I. When Odin waged war on the Frost Giants, the Casket of Ancient Winters was not the only thing he found. He also found me, seemingly abandoned, alone. I will never know if I was truly unwanted, though the family Odin gave me in my mother and brother certainly made me feel wanted and loved for my boyhood.” Thor brings Loki’s hand to his mouth to kiss the top, and a good fourth of the people gathered in the room seem to swoon. “I learned of my heritage around the same time Thor was banished. For most of my life, I believed myself to be Aesir, like you.”

“I must apologize,” He continues. “It was I who orchestrated Thor’s banishment to Midgard. I let the Frost Giants into Asgard on the day of the coronation, knowing Thor would likely parade into Jötunheimr for retribution. It was I who sent the Destroyer to Earth, and I who attempted to have Odin assassinated.” There are gasps around the room, and Loki quickly adds, “My plan was to kill Laufey before he could do the same to Odin and make myself out to be the hero. I only succeeded at one,” He chuckles humorlessly.

“I have not done right by you,” Loki says earnestly, and Thor again squeezes his hand. “And for that, I apologize. I do not ask your forgiveness, for I know there is little chance of having it. What I do ask for is a chance to show you that I can be something more.” And he looks to Thor at his side, whose smile is filled with an adoration that Loki truly never believed he would have for himself. The king dips his head, and Loki meets him half-way, sharing a chaste kiss between them.

He settles into Thor’s side after, the Thunderer’s arm coming to drape loosely around Loki’s shoulders.

“Our daughter is nearly four months along,” Thor takes over for Loki, pride evident in his voice. “When she is born, she will be recognized as my first born and the legitimate heir to the throne of Asgard.”

“The child can’t be your legitimate heir if you are not married to its…mother,” Speaks a male voice from the back, and Thor looks to Loki. The trickster nods.

“That law is far outdated. But I have asked Loki to accept my hand as my Consort,” Thor announces, and he raises their linked hands together to allow their silver bangles to catch the light. “I was fortunate enough that he accepted.”

“Does this mean the babe will be half-Jötunn?” Another voice calls, a female this time. Thor’s shoulders stiffen minutely, but he puts on his best diplomat voice.

“Our daughter will be half Jötunn and half Aesir,” He says, and a murmur breaks out amongst the crowd. Loki’s free hand goes protectively to his bump, while Thor tries to quiet them.

“It’s enough to have someone not of our realm as King’s consort, but a half-breed on the throne?” A man Loki vaguely recognizes as one of the old palace cooks says, standing from his place in the center of the room. A few Asgardians raise their voices in agreement.

Loki bites the inside of his cheek and opens his mouth to defend himself and his child, but someone beats him to it.

“Oh, don’t be bigoted, Ase,” And it’s Eldotta standing across the room, hands on her hips. “Loki is a Prince of Asgard. He knows more about how things should be run than you ever will. And are you judging a babe before it’s even born?”

“I agree,” another voice chimes in, and Valencia stands up from her place by the foot of the stairs, Rada on her hip. “Asgard has just been made new again. Perhaps it’s time that some of our old ways die with the planet.”

Loki is speechless. These people, the ones he had _betrayed_ , are fighting for his cause. He’s spent so long feeling like he was the only one in his own corner, the only one looking out for himself. Now he has Thor, and Eldotta, and Valencia, and soon others are standing: the healers, the children he teaches (some to the chagrin of their parents), the engineers he’d tended to. Loki is shocked when he sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and turns to find that Valkyrie, Banner and the group of former contenders gathered there have also stood.

“I think,” A last voice rings out over the crowd, and the room falls silent. “That change is exactly what we need. And I’m willing to let the past die with the planet as we move forward.” Loki knows who it is before he even turns his head to see Svanhild standing with her group of healers. Loki owes her much. More, he thinks, than he could ever express or return.

More than half of the room is standing now, and Loki looks over them, eyes dangerously misty. Some still sit, with their arms crossed or staring at the ground with frowns upon their faces. Loki can’t win all of his battles, at least, not this time. He will continue to work to prove himself.

Fortified, Loki slowly stands, pulling Thor up with him. Loki steps forward to the crowd, before spreading his hands in front of him.

“Asgardians,” He says, before purposefully looking about the whole perimeter of the room. “Men, women, those who fall outside of those roles. Children, adults, Aesir, humans, and contenders. I thank you for your support. I hope to be able to prove my intent to those who are not certain of me yet, and your suspicion is not unfounded. If I may ask one thing, it is this: please do not doubt my loyalty. To my King, to my child, and to all of you.” He turns to Thor and smiles, and the King approaches, wrapping a warm arm around Loki’s waist.

“A new dawn has come to Asgard.” Thor declares, hand sliding to cup under Loki’s swollen stomach. “Asgard did not die with the planet, as Asgard is not a place. It is a people.” The kiss Thor presses to Loki’s temple has him flushing in the cheeks. “The Asgardian people are many, and varied. I should say, that any being who is kind and strong of heart, and hopes for a better future for their children and those who will come after us, should find a place amongst Asgard’s ranks.”

Thor turns to press a bristly kiss to Loki’s cheek, and Loki stands in front of the people ( _his_ people), Thor at his back. He’s never felt more at ease in front of them.

“To Asgard,” He says, and though it might not be a mighty yell like Thor might loose, Loki’s voice is sure and strong. Those who stood for him repeat his words before they begin applauding. Those who did not either continue to sit in silence or rise quietly to leave the room.

They stay for an hour or so after, accepting more questions and well-wishes from individuals and families. Multiple mothers offer Loki the clothes which their children have outgrown, which he accepts graciously. To be honest, he’s got very little of what the babe will need. She’ll need clothes and diapers and a bassinet…and Loki’s seiðr can only craft so much.

“We still have more than half of the pregnancy left,” Thor points out when Loki tells him this. “We’ll make sure she wants for nothing.”

The next to approach are the contenders, along with Banner and Valkyrie. The scrapper makes a beeline for Thor, and Loki is left to give Banner an awkward smile and shift from foot to foot uncomfortably.

“So…a baby,” The scientist says, and Loki can’t help himself from finding the oddness a little endearing.

“Yes, a baby,” Loki acknowledges. “A girl. We’re at a pitiful lack for names, though, so if you have any, I’m all ears.”

“…Thor Junior?” Banner offers after a moment, and Loki groans and presses a hand to his temple.

“Not you, too. Tell me Thor didn’t put you up to that.”

“He might have,” Banner says, and then gives a terribly embarrassed smile. It sends Loki into chuckles no matter how hard he tries to resist, and Banner joins in, rubbing at the back of his neck self-consciously.

“Are we, ah, good?”

“Good?” Loki tips his head, perplexed. “About what?”

Banner glances around like he’s looking for someone to help him articulate, but Thor and Valkyrie are still speaking to each other quietly. “For, ah, New York. The whole puny god thing? I mean, I’m not sorry I did it to you back then, because you kind of deserved it, but…” Banner looks like he’s internally wincing at his own wording, and Loki quirks an amused smile.

“We’re ‘good’,” Loki confirms, actually offering the scientist a small, but genuine, smile. “I’ll look past your breaking several of my bones if you can allow me a chance to make up for all I’ve done.”

“Deal,” Banner replies, and returns Loki’s smile. “You know; this guy won’t shut up about you.” Banner gestures to Thor, who seems to have finished his conversation with Valkyrie. The Thunderer actually seems to turn a little _pink_ in the cheeks, and Loki hasn’t seen Thor _blush_ since the first time he saw Loki nude.

“Is that so?” Loki asks teasingly. “Perhaps we’ll have to sit down over tea sometime. You’ll just have to tell me exactly what he’s been saying.”

“On second thought, I’m not sure I like you getting along with my friends,” Thor says, but his tone is light.

“Your, ah, Highness,” Valkyrie says, and Loki blinks when he realizes she’s addressing him and not Thor. “I’d like to speak to you somewhere more private, if you’d be amenable.”

Loki takes a moment, looking at Thor, but the Thunderer simply gives Loki a little head-dip.

“It’s your choice, Loki,” He says. “Do or do not, it is entirely up to you.”

The trickster’s hand comes up to his stomach reflexively, and he bites the inside of his cheek. He’s not entirely sure he wants her apology, or even wants to hear what she has to say. But Valkyrie is technically one of his constituents now, and he knows a tactical advantage when he sees one. Smoothing things out with her could give him a chance to do the same with other dissenters.

“Lead the way,” He decides, and Valkyrie nods and heads down the stairs and out one of the doors to their right.

He weaves a transporting spell behind his back just in case, and Loki feels his dagger slide into his boot.

Valkyrie stops them in a small alcove outside of the main room, by one of the many floor-to-ceiling windows that line the ship’s perimeter. She turns to look at him, and Loki stays a few paces away, unsure.

“I’m not going to attack you,” She says after a moment, and Loki cups a hand under the ridge of his stomach protectively.

“Physically, no,” He replies, and Valkyrie’s shoulders seem to slump a bit.

“…I shouldn’t have done what I did.” Valkyrie says, and she looks up to meet Loki’s gaze. He scans her face, but finds no hint of malice there. Only a strange constipated sort of regret. “It…it was cruel of me, and I was drunk, but that is no excuse.”

“You know this is tough for me,” She adds after a moment of silence, to which Loki actually snorts a little.

“I know. I’m enjoying it immensely.”

The glare she sends Loki is half-hearted, at best. “I just want what’s best for Thor. It occurred to me after the fact that attacking what he loves most is probably not what’s best for him.” Valkyrie runs a hand through her hair and puffs out a breath. “I thought you had made it up, or that, if you were actually pregnant, you were planning on using it against him.”

“Believe me, I wasn’t planning on this,” Loki interjects, gesturing down to his bump. “And, in the past, I might’ve done exactly what you were worried about. What I need you to understand is that I’m actively trying to change that. And your outing of my pregnancy didn’t exactly help my trust issues or the fact that I feel like I rarely have control over what happens to me.”

Valkyrie seems to consider this, and is silent for a while. Loki studies her. They aren’t really all that different, the two of them. Strategically self-serving, fiercely protective of those they let into their circle, a fair bit stubborn. Loki thinks that, perhaps, if circumstances were different, they could have found a strange sort of camaraderie in each other.

Valkyrie shifts so her stance is more open to Loki, and he echoes, letting his arms drop to his sides.

“I’m sorry,” She says, and Loki is finds her voice nothing but earnest. “I took your ability to choose away, and it was wrong of me. I apologize. I know what it’s like to have something so life-changing be taken out of your hands, and I know how soul-crushing it can feel.”

Loki thinks back to when he had initiated the mind link with Valkyrie on Sakaar, the beautiful young warrior he had seen jump in front of Valkyrie to save her life from Hela. He thinks he understands, now. They really aren’t so different, after all.

“Thank you,” Loki acknowledges, and lets his expression relax from guarded to more neutral. “I do have one question for you, though,” He says, and Valkyrie tips her head at him.

“How did you know?”

The small smile that crosses Valkyrie’s face is amused, but not in a malicious way. “I’m far older than I think you and Thor assume,” She says, leaning back against the window and crossing her arms, relaxed. “I was a part of Odin’s Deus Ex Machina, so to speak. When he felt like he was going to lose a battle, all he needed to do was push the big silver button.” One of her hands comes up to trace a long, jagged scar over her bicep.

“We weren’t just trained in battle. We were educated about all species; all beings we might have to face on the field. Jötunar were included in that list, being what many considered the greatest threat to Asgard.” Her eyes flick to Loki’s stomach for a moment before she looks back up. “I knew Jötunar were intersex, I knew they were able to both sire and carry children.”

“That doesn’t explain how you knew of my heritage,” Loki frowns. “Banner knew due to his involvement in my attacking New York and the briefings that came after. But I know Thor didn’t tell you, and I doubt Banner did.”

“Mind links go both ways, Seiðrmadr,” Valkyrie says lightly, and she waggles her fingers at Loki, the tips of which are sparking with white light. Something in Loki’s mind seems to click, and he holds up his own hand, aquamarine seiðr mirroring Valkyrie’s white.

“For you to make me relive my worst memory, you had to offer one of your own in response. It’s how the spell works, equal exchange.” Her fingers fizzle out, and she folds her arms across her chest once more. “I saw you, and the Casket of Ancient Winters.” Valkyrie stops there, she obviously doesn’t need to finish her sentence.

“You—“

“Big silver button,” The warrior says with a shrug. “The best soldiers have every weapon at their disposal. My knowledge is extremely elementary. Battle tricks, at best.”

“Hm,” Loki responds thoughtfully, but says no more.

“After that, it was fairly easy to figure out. You complain about how hot you are incessantly for days, then you disappear with no explanation? And when Thor goes to check on you, _he_ disappears?” She snorts softly. “And then you can’t keep food down and drink water at a celebration that revolves almost exclusively around alcohol? My comrades weren’t allowed to have children, but I’ve been around enough pregnant beings of many species to know the signs when I see them.”

“Anyways,” Valkyrie says after a moment more. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry, and that I hope for the best for your daughter.” She seems to understand that Loki doesn’t intend to let her near the babe, at least, not in the foreseeable future. He appreciates that.

He studies her quietly before dipping his head a little. “Thank you,” Loki says, and Valkyrie dips her head back. Her voice stops Loki when he turns to leave.

“He really won’t stop talking about you. It’s pretty gross,” but her tone is light, amused, and Loki smiles where she can’t see and heads back into the main room.

Svanhild had been right, and the babe’s quickening comes a week after the incident with Dane. Loki is bent over in the engine room, elbow-deep in multicolored wires, when he feels a kick straight to his bladder. It startles him so much that he jerks up and smacks his head on the metal paneling above him, and he gives a sore groan and carefully pulls himself back into the main room.

He can’t be upset for long, though. It fills him with a strange sort of giddy excitement, and his hand goes from rubbing the smarting spot on his head to rubbing over where he had felt the kick.

“Well, hello, there,” Loki says to his daughter.

Thor is off-ship with a group of Asgardians making a supply run, and he isn’t due back until evening. Loki can barely wait.

The hours tick by torturously slowly, and Loki all but scrambles off of his bed when the knock comes at their bedroom door that night.

Thor’s got two dinner plates balanced in his hands, and a woven sack is thrown over one of his shoulders. He sets the plates down on the bedside table before dipping down to press a kiss to Loki’s forehead.

“And how is my love today?” He asks, grinning when Loki flushes a bit at the term of endearment.

“Oh, fine,” Loki replies, voice comically dull. “I had lunch with Eldotta after you left, mended that tunic I ripped trying to put on yesterday, and then Korg asked me to help figure out why half of the ship was without electricity.” He looks up at Thor. “We have mice, by the way. But that’s not even the best part. There I was, hands buried in dangerous electrical equipment, when your daughter decided she wanted to make herself known and damn near give me a concussion.”

Thor blinks at him, and Loki snorts.

“She kicked me in the bladder and I bashed my head on the wall in surprise,” He elaborates, and Thor goes from idling to all engines go in about half a second.

“ _She kicked_?” He exclaims, and Loki yelps as Thor suddenly hefts him into his arms.

“Yes, and I can already tell she’s going to be as ridiculously strong as you are,” Loki gripes, but he folds his legs around Thor’s waist and wraps an arm around his neck. He also doesn’t complain as Thor nuzzles a kiss against his lips.

“These are happy times,” Thor murmurs against his mouth, and Loki agrees wholeheartedly.

Later, after they’ve eaten and Thor has pleaded with the little one in Loki’s belly to “please kick for your papa” at least three times, the Thunderer hefts the bag he’d brought back with him onto the bed.

“What’s this?” Loki asks drowsily as Thor shuffles through it, making a pleased noise after a moment and pulling something out.

He sets the item in Loki’s lap, and the trickster rubs his eyes before picking it up to examine it. It’s a book, bound in thick, cracked leather and covered in a fine sheet of dust. It must be fairly old, Loki muses, turning it over in his hands.

“Look at the title page,” Thor urges, and Loki does, flipping the cover open to the first page.

 _Jötunar Traditions and Rituals._ It takes Loki three times before the words he reads register in his head, and he marvels at them, thumb coming up to trace the delicate penmanship.

“Thor, this is…” He says, softly, and Thor takes one of Loki’s hands in his.

“There was a woman in town who had spent her life travelling to learn of different beings and species,” He explains, thumb rubbing circles on Loki’s palm. “I stopped at her stall to look at the books she had for sale, and as soon as she caught sight of me, she told me she had something I would be interested in. I haven’t an idea of how she knew, but I thought you might enjoy it,” And he looks up at Loki with one wide, sky-blue eye, in the same way he used to when he’d brought Loki flowers or a pretty rock from the fields when they were boys. Loki always got the sense that Thor wanted to be told he’d done well.

“I love it, Thor,” Loki says earnestly, cupping Thor’s face to press a soft kiss to his lips in thanks. “I really do. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

Loki reads a chapter or two for Thor as he lays with his cheek against Loki’s belly. The baby kicks twice, and Thor kisses over each spot, pressing his mouth to Loki’s belly and murmuring sweet reassurances to his daughter. Loki watches him with a smile and soft eyes.

He’s about to put the book down and roll over to sleep for the night before he turns the final page of one chapter to reveal the title of the next: _pregnancy rituals._ Interest piqued, Loki reads on.

“Thor,” He says after about a half-hour of devouring every page. “Thor,” He repeats, louder, and the soft snoring against Loki’s belly is interrupted.

“Hm?” Thor mumbles, obviously half-awake, and Loki lets out a huff of laughter.

“This chapter is about traditions that surround Jötunar pregnancy,” He says, and Thor pushes up on his elbows to look up at Loki.

“What does it say?”

“There are some time frames we have missed,” Loki says, paging through the chapter again. “But there are still a couple we can do. This page details runes and sigils to be painted on the pregnant Jötunn’s belly every night before sleep, starting in the second trimester.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Thor asks, pressing a kiss to Loki’s belly, and the trickster chuckles and rolls his eyes.

They manage to craft a dye of water and some of the leftover berries from their late dinner, and Loki lays back on the bed whilst Thor dips his fingers into the mixture and copies the symbols detailed in the book onto Loki’s stomach.

“What do these mean?” He asks Loki as he works, and the god of mischief hums softly.

“The first one is protection. Then good health, wisdom, and happiness.” He takes the book and flips a couple pages, before pointing to two more sigils. “Paint these too,” Loki says, and Thor dips his fingers into the bowl again.

Once he’s done, Thor carefully helps Loki up and to the full-length mirror hanging on the opposite wall, where they admire Thor’s handiwork together.

“I’ll find some actual paint for tomorrow night,” Thor says, pressing a bristly kiss to Loki’s cheek. “What are these last two?”

“This is winter,” Loki murmurs, entwining his fingers with Thor’s. “And next to it is thunder.”

“And you call me sentimental,” Thor says, but his voice is pleased.

The babe becomes even more active over the next couple weeks, obviously eager to make her presence known. No situation is off-limits for her, as it seems. Loki is at council? Perfect time to kick him in the bladder so that he has to hastily excuse himself. In the middle of giving a lesson? Two kicks delivered swiftly to his abdomen leave him wheezing and out of breath. Trying to sleep because the little thunderling is sapping all of his energy? Laughable. Loki supposes she’s inherited this attention-seeking behavior from him, so it’s suiting that he’s the one who has to suffer it.

Loki takes on his Jötunn form permanently in his fifth month. To this point, Loki has been between forms intermittently: remaining outwardly Aesir when he had to be seen by the public, and reverting to Frost Giant when he and Thor had retired to their quarters for the night.

“It’s time,” Svanhild had told him at his most recent check-up, after she’d recorded his fever. “Any longer and it could damage the babe.”

Of course, Loki wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt his daughter. So he does as he’s told, sitting in his quarters that night and staring at the blue of his palms.

Thor emerges from the shower in a cloud of steam, one towel wrapped around his waist with another scrubbing haphazardly at his shorn hair. He has Loki cut it every so often, now. Loki’s glad that he seems to have taken to the new look, though he does sometimes miss the long blond locks of Thor’s youth.

“I have to stay like this, now,” Loki responds to the unasked question on Thor’s face. “For the rest of the pregnancy, lest it harm the babe.”

“Tell me what you’re concerned about,” Thor says, settling down on the bed next to Loki.

“Even those who support me are used to seeing me in my Aesir form,” Loki murmurs, flipping his hand to study the deep blue ridges that twist across his skin. “Don’t tell me it wasn’t jarring to see me like this for the first time.”

“Verily, it was,” Thor confirms, reaching up to trace over one of Loki’s horns. The trickster shivers a bit. “But you are still you. Stubborn, clever silvertongue, with a soft heart that few are given the privilege of seeing.”

Loki lifts his red eyes to meet Thor’s blue, and the Thunderer smiles gently. “You are still Loki. What skin you occupy does not change that fact. Give the people a bit to adjust, and they will see the same.”

“You had better stop touching my horns if you don’t intend to finish what you started,” Loki says after a moment, but his heart is warm at Thor’s assurances.

“Who says I didn’t intend to finish it?” Thor asks innocently, before reaching for the towel about his waist. “And look here, easy access.”

Loki rolls his eyes, and then yelps when Thor pounces on him.

By the sixth month and the end of his second trimester, Loki waddles more than he walks. He’s taken to only wearing Thor’s tunics, and even some of the smaller ones are starting to grow tight around his middle.

“It’s a good sign,” Eldotta comments while she passes Loki her lesson plans one day. “She’s going to be a big, strong girl.”

“I’ll probably be more thrilled about it when she finally arrives,” Loki replies drily, but with his concerted efforts to spend more time amongst the people in the last couple months, a good amount of them have become more accustomed to his mannerisms. Eldotta seems to not take offense at his comment, rather, she snorts a bit.

“I…I brought a book for lessons, today, if that would be alright with you,” Loki finally brings up after a moment of fighting with himself, and Eldotta blinks up at him.

“What is it?”

Loki hands her the book on Jötunar traditions Thor had given him, and Eldotta looks it over for a moment, paging through a couple chapters before she looks back up at Loki, face soft.

“I figured I’d read them the chapters about name-day traditions and the one about customary games…” And the headmistress hands the book back to Loki, a small smile playing about her lips.

“You know what? I think that’s a lovely idea.”

It had taken the children a week or so originally to stop shying away from Loki in his Jötunn form. One of the smaller boys had even cried in fright and hidden under a table, and Loki spent the rest of that night inconsolable in Thor’s arms. He doesn’t blame them. He, too, had been taught as a child that Jötunar were horrifying monsters, ones that would come at night and eat you if you didn’t obey your parents.

But, little by little, each child had warmed to him. Taavi, of course, was first, bouncing over to Loki’s chair in the corner of the room one day to chatter brightly at him about baby names. A group of three girls was next, nervously asking Loki a day later if they could braid his hair. Loki had appeared at dinner that night with multiple clumsy braids woven into his hair, and wore them proudly.

He lures a few more to talk to him with a handful of candies (“It’s not bribery!” He defends to Thor later that night. It is bribery). The rest come by the end of the week, seeming to slowly look past Loki’s outer self to realize that he’s the same man they’ve known for over half a year, now.

Some of the adults are less willing. The ones who originally stood for him don’t take too long, though he notices that some avoid eye contact or gawp at his horns and sharp canines as he speaks with them. Once that core group is secure, Loki begins to branch out. Valencia’s husband, Arvid, is still unenthusiastic about a half-Jötunn as heir apparent. What he is enthusiastic about, though, are his twin daughters, and Loki manages to get him talking about them one day.

“I’ll be lucky if my daughter is as bright and joyful as yours are,” Loki says as the conversation comes to a close, and the smile on Arvid’s face lets Loki know he’s done well.

Arvid ends up being within a group of a few key people that help Loki begin to turn the tide in the dissenters. Another is Gyda, an older woman whom Loki suspects dislikes him out of mostly tradition.

She takes a bit longer. Loki starts to insert himself into the group she tends to congregate with, sitting in on card games when they allow him or sharing their table at meals. Hillevi, one of Svanhild’s fellow healers, is a member of the group, so Loki knows he has an in.

Loki sticks to talking mostly of his childhood, of Thor, and of his hopes for the babe. It is paramount that he stresses his personhood, and, little by little, Gyda warms to him.

“If you end up ruling alongside his Majesty,” She asks one day, over the empty plates that remain from their dinner, “What will be your focus?”

Loki blinks and wipes at his mouth with a napkin before he responds. “Well, rebuilding continues to be Thor and I’s first priority. We need to find somewhere safe to settle before we can even begin worrying about anything else. But my focus after such would likely rest on education and diplomacy.”

“How’s that?” Gyda asks.

“Well, I believe our children are our future,” He replies, hand coming to rest on the swell of his stomach. “They must have a thorough education as such, so that they may be ready to continue to improve life for our people after we are gone. And, especially after the destruction of our planet, building strong relationships with our allies will be paramount for our continued survival.”

Gyda hums and looks him over, eyes full of appraisal. The next time Loki sees her about the ship, she gives him a nod of acknowledgement.

It’s all as well that he began changing minds early, because, by his eighth month, Loki is a veritable mess. His hormones have basically taken over his mental functioning, and he is prone to unbecoming outbursts of emotion. He also has poor Thor constantly running errands for him.

“You did this to me,” Loki points out when Thor reappears from one of his missions to the kitchens with a plate full of fish.

“That would be how intercourse works,” Thor grumbles, and gets a snowball to the face for his efforts.

“Do you think we’re ready?” Loki asks Thor one night, while he’s soaking in the coldest bath Thor could draw. His brother sits outside of the tub, tracing over Loki’s shoulders and arms with his fingers.

Thor hums thoughtfully, dipping a finger in the water to draw damp patterns over Loki’s clavicle. “I am ready to meet her,” He says. “I am ready to begin this journey with you. I do not think either of us could ever be entirely ready to be parents. But we will do our best.”

“Children are so _impressionable_ ,” Loki says, and he can feel another outburst coming on. “Even the smallest thing you do wrong can stay with them for the rest of their lives. What if I do something, Thor? What if I say something to her out of ignorance, or anger, and she resents me forever for it?” And cold tears plop from Loki’s cheeks into the water, leaving tiny patterns of frost in their wake.

“Shh,” Thor murmurs, brushing Loki’s hair back out of his face. “Loki, we will make mistakes. Every parent does. But our child could never hate you. You know better than anyone how parenting can affect a child. I know you will work your hardest to make sure those mistakes aren’t repeated with our daughter.”

“You mean I won’t hide her heritage from her for centuries and then dismiss her when she inevitably lashes out about it?”

“Exactly,” Thor says, and kisses his temple. “She’ll know of both her cultures, and be proud of the blood that runs through her veins.”

The tempest of his emotions calmed, for now, Loki allows Thor to dry him off and wrap him in his arms, safe and secure as they sleep.

They hold citizen council the next day, and though Loki still continues to function mainly as note taker, he has moved his chair into the group of people rather than off to the side.

“We’ll need to make a stop for fuel soon,” Hemming, the head engineer, reports. “Some of the housings for our electrical connections could use replacements too, but I’d wager they’ll probably hold until we make it to Midgard.”

“I’ll check the charts for any nearby planets we could make a stop on,” Thor replies from where he’s standing behind Loki’s chair, hands on Loki’s shoulders. “Come with me on the run. If you can find new housings, I’d rather we replace them then bet on the old ones.”

“Yessir,” Hemming replies, and Loki frowns as he feels his daughter shift particularly violently. She’s gotten terribly active towards the end of her eighth month.

The next to speak is Nanna, who stands to report on the ship’s food supply. Loki has turned to the next page in his notebook when he feels another strong movement, and a strange wet sensation follows.

He curses, believing at first that the child has kicked his bladder and he’s just had an accident in front of all of these people. Then the first contraction comes.

“Loki?” Thor asks at Loki’s soft exclamation, and the trickster reaches down between his legs shakily.

“I have to stop doing this in front of you all,” Loki says breathlessly, as his hand comes back wet with his own broken water.

The child is coming.


	7. Hold Me Tight (or Don't)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m scared, Thor,” He admits, strained, and Thor gently coaxes Loki’s hand free so that he can take it in his own instead.
> 
> “I am, too,” Thor says, and Loki lets out a weak snort. His brother, the God of Thunder, scared. But Thor meets his eyes, and Loki blinks softly when he realizes he does see a hint of fear in the remaining blue depths. But there’s also excitement, and anxiety, and hope, and countless other emotions that Loki couldn’t possibly put into words. Loki curls his free hand in Thor’s collar and pulls pleadingly, and Thor obliges, leaning down to slot their lips together.
> 
> “She’s coming,” Loki breathes out against his mouth, and he feels Thor’s lips curve into a smile.
> 
> “She’s coming,” He echoes, and brushes their noses together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a way to end 2017, with the end of my first chaptered fic!
> 
> Onwards!
> 
> This chapter includes non-graphic descriptions of the birthing process.

The room is silent for a moment before Thor springs into action. He hurries to Loki and checks him over before scooping him up in a bridal-carry, murmuring distracted assurances as his brain tries to catch up to his body. This seems to be the catalyst, as it were. The council bursts into noise, with some clamoring to help and others making excited exclamations.

Svanhild appears at their side a moment later, laying a hand on Thor’s arm. It seems to snap him out of his dazed reverie. “Let’s get him to the medical wing,” She says gently, and Thor nods before following her out of the room.

Loki remains largely silent as he’s carted down the hallway. Of course, he knew the baby could be coming at any time, now, though Svanhild’s estimated delivery date had been another fortnight away.

“I can’t tell you what your magic directed to the baby might’ve done,” She had said. “There’s a chance that it sped the gestation. There’s also a chance that it did nothing.”

The latter seems to be true, Loki thinks as another contraction rolls through his body. He grits his teeth against the pained noise that tries to escape, but Thor hears anyways.

“It’s going to be alright, Loki,” He says, pressing a kiss to Loki’s forehead as they enter the infirmary. He settles Loki down on the cot there, but the Trickster keeps a hand fisted tight in Thor’s tunic.

“I’m scared, Thor,” He admits, strained, and Thor gently coaxes Loki’s hand free so that he can take it in his own instead.

“I am, too,” Thor says, and Loki lets out a weak snort. His brother, _the God of Thunder_ , scared. But Thor meets his eyes, and Loki blinks softly when he realizes he does see a hint of fear in the remaining blue depths. But there’s also excitement, and anxiety, and hope, and countless other emotions that Loki couldn’t possibly put into words. Loki curls his free hand in Thor’s collar and pulls pleadingly, and Thor obliges, leaning down to slot their lips together.

“She’s coming,” Loki breathes out against his mouth, and he feels Thor’s lips curve into a smile.

“She’s coming,” He echoes, and brushes their noses together.

What follows is twelve hours of absolute hell. The contractions start in earnest around three hours after Loki’s water breaks, and he feels as if he’s being cleaved in half. His claws rip through the sheets like tissue paper as he grips at them, and he breathlessly apologizes to Svanhild and promises to get her a new set. She simply laughs softly at him from where she’s been monitoring his dilation and shakes her head.

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’ve nothing to apologize for,” She says, cleaning off her measuring tool. “Now, just focus on getting this little princess out.”

“I’m trying,” Loki gripes, and lets out a choked groan at another contraction. Thor leans over and wipes at his brow with a cloth, letting Loki squeeze his other hand in a vice-grip.

It goes on like this for what seems like an eternity, Svanhild checking his dilation every hour or so as Loki struggles against the cot he’s laid on. Thor never leaves his side, continuing to wipe at Loki’s forehead and whisper assurances to him. Eventually, he retrieves the ice crystal from Loki’s discarded tunic and begins running it along Loki’s body: his wrists, the sides of his throat, and down his abdomen where Thor gingerly lets it linger over his navel.

Loki is faintly aware of the people that come knocking, he hears their voices outside the door. Every time, Svanhild grumbles under her breath and goes to scold them, making sure she’s careful to keep them from getting a look inside.

“How rude,” She mutters after, and Loki drops his head back against the cot, letting out a gusty laugh.

In the twelfth hour, Svanhild sits up from her check and smiles at him.

“You’re fully dilated,” She says, giving Loki’s calf a little reassuring squeeze. “She should be coming any time now.”

“Praise the Norns,” Loki croaks, and Thor leans over to nuzzle against Loki’s cheek.

“Have a shave, would you?” Loki complains at him as Thor sits back up, and Loki thumbs over the reddened skin of his own smooth face. “It’s like hugging a pine tree.”

Thor’s booming laugh startles Loki a bit, but he relaxes after, unable to stop the smile that forms on his face.

When the contractions begin coming within a minute of each other, Loki wonders dazedly how he ever thought he had actually experienced true pain before. What Thanos did to him is _laughable_ compared to giving birth. Loki is certain he might just split in half at any moment. He can tell his claws are drawing blood where they’re driven into Thor’s hand, but his brother is nothing if not a good sport, continuing to hold on unflinchingly. Loki’s not sure what he’d do if Thor wasn’t there to ground him.

“Good, here comes another,” Svanhild coaches, crouched at the end of the cot. “Take a deep breath and push with it.”

Loki does as she asks, squeezing his eyes shut as an ungodly noise rips from his throat with the next contraction. “No more of these,” He pants at Thor after it ends. “You can just keep your horrid cock to yourself.”

Thor actually chuckles a bit, and Loki bares his teeth at him in a snarl that holds no heat.

After about an hour of this, Svanhild moves to retrieve a blanket, squatting at the end of the cot. “She’s crowning,” the healer announces, preparing to catch the babe. “One last big push for me, it’s almost over.”

With a hoarse cry, Loki pushes, and he feels something slip free.

His head falls back, and it’s eerily silent for a few moments.

Then, there is a gurgle, and then, another. And finally, a piercing cry splits the air.

“She’s got your set of lungs on her,” Thor teases softly, and Loki flings an arm out, connecting with Thor’s middle.

Loki seems to drift in and out of consciousness for a bit, vaguely aware of Thor leaving his side and the sounds of Svanhild moving about. His baby is still crying. Loki makes a soft noise of dismay, but his entire body is limp, and he can’t do anything despite every instinct he has screaming at him to go to his daughter.

Thor approaches a couple minutes later with a bundle of blankets in his arms, and Loki blinks up at him weakly. His brother’s face is absolutely awe-struck, and his eye is glued to the babe swaddled up against his chest. Thor is absolutely _in love,_ and it makes Loki’s heart swell.

“Loki, she’s…” Thor murmurs, “She’s…” And Loki startles to see tears forming in Thor’s remaining eye.

“Oh no, none of that,” Loki says, unsure of how he’ll be able to handle it if Thor starts crying. “Give her here, I want to see her.”

Thor obliges, leaning over and carefully moving the bundle, settling it against Loki’s chest as Loki struggles up to sit against the pillows at his back. As soon as she’s cushioned against Loki’s chest, his daughter hiccups once and stops crying. It makes something tighten in Loki’s ribcage.

As she calms, the babe’s eyes open, and she blinks up at Loki with wide honey-brown orbs, which Loki pins immediately as her paternal grandmother’s. If he looks deeper, though, Loki can see a red tint to them. This is not the only indication of his daughter’s heritage, though: her pale skin is traced with raised, midnight-blue marks that mirror Loki’s own. Loki traces along a swath of them with his thumb, marveling. Part of him had hoped that she would come out entirely Aesir-looking, so as to save her from ridicule as she grew. He realizes now that he’s _glad_ that she has defining Jötunn characteristics: she has nothing to be ashamed of, and he hopes to help her learn this as she ages.

The little one yawns widely and squints up at Loki curiously. He cups her cheek softly, feeling the pattern of markings against his palm, and offers his daughter a smile. He knows what Thor was struggling to say. Their daughter is _perfect_ , absolutely and in every way. Loki swears right then and there that he’s going to protect her from everything he knows to be out there in the cosmos. No-one will lay a finger on his daughter.

After a moment, he looks to Thor, who is watching them both with a light in his gaze set to rival the sun.

“She is certainly your daughter,” The Thunderer says, coming up beside the cot so he can wrap one great arm protectively around his little family. The child’s caramel gaze shifts to her father, and she lets out a quiet grunt. “Hello, darling,” Thor coos at her, in such a comically tender voice that Loki can barely contain a smile.

“She’s certainly yours, as well,” Loki points out, smoothing the tuft of golden-blonde hair on the infant’s head back. “Look here, at her nose, and the shape of her mouth.” Loki draws a thumb along the bow-curve of his daughter’s lips, chuckling a bit when the child latches on to the tip of his nail to suckle. “And she seems to have inherited your appetite,” He teases, and Thor looses a guffaw.

“You’ll probably want to see if she’ll feed, to make sure she can latch,” Svanhild speaks up from where she’s been watching them, a great smile across her face. “I’ll give you three some privacy,” And she slips out of the door, into the hallway which has fallen blessedly silent in the past couple hours.

It takes a few tries. Loki awkwardly maneuvers the babe this way and that, trying to find the right angle for her to feed. He has, in fact, grown the tiniest little barely-there breasts in the last few months of his pregnancy, which Thor had been quite fascinated (and enamored) with. Loki is still fairly uncertain of them.

“Do you mind?” He asks Thor, suddenly embarrassed, and his brother blinks before averting his gaze.

The babe latches successfully after a few minutes, and Loki delicately cups a hand against the back of her head to secure her as she feeds. He realizes Thor is still staring at the opposite wall after a moment, and Loki clears his throat.

“You may, ah…” He fumbles, and Thor looks back to him.

“Sorry, it’s just…new,” Loki explains, and Thor leans down to press a kiss to his forehead.

“You’re quite alright,” He says, before reaching down to thumb at his daughter’s cheek. “She has mother’s eyes,” He observes, and there is a tinge of sadness to his voice that Loki echoes in his own heart.

“…what would mother think?” Loki asks quietly. He’s made painfully aware of his own last words to Frigga, a bitter declaration that she was not his mother. It weighs heavy on his mind, still. Some days he reflects on it, the fact that Thor wants Loki to take the helm that Frigga had left empty. King’s consort, sure, but _Queen? All-Mother?_ Does Loki even deserve such titles, considering the kind, strong-willed, nurturing and confident woman that held them last?

“I think she’d be thrilled that we’re finally getting along, somewhat,” Thor’s voice breaks through Loki’s thoughts. “Though you have threatened to stab me no less than twenty times in the past two weeks.”

“You make horrid puns and wouldn’t stop the ship to pick up more mangoes when we ran out,” Loki grumbles, though he realizes how ridiculous that sounds. His stabbing Thor was actually a strangely common occurrence in their childhood (He remembers Frigga’s exasperated voice: “Loki, come back here with that knife!” He had always sulked back to her and sullenly handed the dagger over. Not much got by Mother’s watch.) Glancing down at the babe feeding at his breast, he sorely hopes that he’s not just been handed retribution for all the grief he put his mother through.

“Your brother is your greatest ally,” Frigga had told him once, after an incident where Thor had stolen Loki’s prized elven flute and held it aloft over his head, making the shorter boy jump and struggle to retrieve it. Loki had rewarded him with a dagger to the thigh. “Friends will come and go, but you will be family forever. Some day, you two will realize that family is really all we have in this life.”

Looking up at Thor now, who is making comical faces at their daughter as she feeds, Loki thinks he understands what Frigga meant.

Catching Loki’s gaze, Thor seems to somber when he realizes what Loki meant by the question. He leans forward to press their foreheads together, and Loki closes his eyes, just soaking in Thor’s warmth for a moment.

“I think she’d be proud,” Thor says, voice low and comforting. “To see us as we are now, fighting side by side. Protecting our people. Working together. Loving each other. She taught you all she knew, Loki. It was never a secret that you were her favorite,” And he nudges their lips together when Loki goes to protest. “She’d be terribly proud to have passed the gauntlet to you. And no doubt she would adore her granddaughter.”

As if on cue, the babe picks this moment to finish feeding and give a little hiccup. Acting on instinct, Loki lifts her to his shoulder and rubs at her back, stopping when he hears a small, soft burp.

“I want to make her proud,” Loki admits quietly, bringing the babe back to rest against his chest. Thor covers Loki’s hand with his own.

“I think you already have.”

Loki ends up dozing off for Odin knows how long, the babe on his chest. Thor stays close, pulling up a chair next to the cot. Loki comes in and out of consciousness a couple times, sometimes to Thor asleep next to him, sometimes to the sound of his daughter beginning to cry. In those instances, Thor takes the babe against his chest and walks around the room, bouncing along to the nonsense melody he’s humming under his breath. Loki vaguely registers that he’s hopelessly, idiotically in love with the great oaf before drifting back off.

He awakens a few hours later to the sound of soft knocking, and Thor looks up from where he’s got the babe cradled in his lap and carefully stands to open the door. Svanhild slips back in, carrying a bundle of a few items in her arms.

“Figured I’d come check on you,” She says, before setting the package down by the end of the cot. “Valencia sent me with this. She says it’s got a few cloth diapers, a spit rag, and some clothing inside.”

“I’ll have to give her my thanks,” Loki replies drowsily, forcing himself to sit up. His limbs have started to regain some strength; he figures he could stand now if need be. “The babe has latched and fed twice now, no problem.”

Svanhild clasps her hands together. “That’s wonderful,” She says, and takes the child from Thor to lay her down on a table across the room, checking her over. “She seems to be perfectly healthy. I’d be happy to discharge you to your rooms, if you’d like. It’d be far more comfortable than this dreary place.”

Thor and Loki exchange a glance, but it is Loki who voices the thought. “Are there still people outside?”

Svanhild diapers the baby before re-swaddling her and passing her back to Thor. It’s only now that Loki realizes how comically small Thor’s daughter is in comparison to the Thunderer: even just his broad palm seems wider than the swaddled babe. He could tell someone he was holding a loaf of bread and none would be the wiser.

“The group comes and goes,” The midwife says, cleaning her hands in the basin to her left. “I’ve done my best to ward them off, but a few keep returning.”

“Are you ready to announce her birth?” Loki asks Thor, turning slowly to dangle his legs over the side of the cot, ignoring the soreness that seems to encompass every muscle past his ribcage. The Thunderer looks back to Loki.

“I think that’s your decision to make,” He says, shifting the babe to one arm so he can help Loki stand. “You are the one who just gave birth, after all.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Loki says, though he does appreciate it. With a flick of his wrist, he’s redressed and his hair is smoothed back into a plait behind his head. Without the babe draining his supplies of seiðr, Loki is going to have to reacquaint himself with casting. “There is just one problem, though,” He points out, and Thor tips his head at him.

“She hasn’t a name, yet.”

Thor’s eye goes comically wide, like this is the first time he’s realized that their daughter has gone at least four hours’ post-birth without a name. It also seems to dawn on him at the same time it does Loki that they’ve not discussed names for the babe in at least two months.

“I haven’t a clue,” He tells Thor, who has lifted the babe up in front of his face, as if staring at his daughter will somehow give him inspiration.

“Noma,” Thor says with finality after a moment, and Loki blinks softly.

“Fate,” He murmurs, and something just seems _right._

“Tell me you didn’t just think of that,” Loki says, coming up behind Thor to peer at their daughter over his shoulder. _Noma._ It’s fitting.

“I’ve had it in mind for a while, now,” Thor replies, brushing a thumb over the babe’s head as her eyelids droop sleepily. “It was either that or Frigga. But I want our daughter to have her own name. Her own identity, so that she may choose her fate.”

“Noma,” Loki says, and the babe blinks her honey-brown eyes at him. “I like it.”

Though he knows it’s impossible, he swears he sees Noma give a hint of a toothless smile.

They stand side-by-side outside of the medical wing, Loki holding Noma close to his heart. The crowd starts small: mostly women and a few children who are anxious to see the new royal baby. News of their emergence must spread fast, though, because soon there are nearly a hundred or so Asgardians crowded into the hallway, murmuring amongst each other.

Thor slings an arm around Loki’s waist and draws him close to his side. “I am proud to announce the birth of my first born, and heir apparent to Asgard’s throne. Noma Lokidóttir,” and Loki looks at him in surprise just as the crowd begins clamoring in excitement.

“Thor,” He murmurs softly, so only his brother can hear. Thor simply looks at him and smiles.

“It is simply convention, Loki,” He says, the arm around Loki’s waist giving a little squeeze. “If mother would have had a daughter, she would have been named similarly.”

Loki wonders why it’s taken him this long to realize he ought to just let Thor do as he pleases, considering nothing short of a miracle will ever change the great oaf’s mind.

Thor, bless him, manages to quiet the crowd by assuring them that the babe will be officially introduced the next day. Though Loki appreciates all of their well-wishes, he has just spent hours giving birth, and there is a good chance he might collapse of exhaustion at any moment. Valencia and a few of the other mothers help part the crowd so they they may pass on their way to their quarters.

Despite multiple mothers telling him that sleeping with the child is dangerous, Loki is reluctant to give Noma up as Thor prepares the bed for them.

“She’ll be right next to us,” The Thunderer soothes, coaxing the babe out of Loki’s arms so that he can lay her in the little bassinet that a few of the contenders had hand-made and proudly presented to them. “If she needs anything, we’ll be right here.”

Loki still insists on switching sides of the bed so that he’s closest to the bassinet, and when Thor dozes off spooned up behind him, Loki stays awake for a while, just gazing at his daughter’s sleeping face.

It’s beyond Loki how something so wondrous could have come from his womb. Such a precious little thing, coming from someone who has made mistakes such as he has. Perhaps, Loki ponders, Noma is proof that he has finally stepped into the path that the Norns had intended for him. She’s not just proof that the Asgardians can rebuild, she’s also proof that Loki can start anew. He finds that thought comforting, and it allows his mind to calm so that he drifts off.

A piercing cry wakes Loki at some ungodly hour, and he blinks blearily to clear the sleep from his eyes. He feels Thor shifting behind him, and the God of Thunder groans and pulls Loki closer.

“Your daughter is crying,” He gruffs against Loki’s ear, and Loki scoffs.

“Oh, I see how it is. Before sunrise, she’s _my_ daughter.”

“I’d happily get up if I had the ability to feed her,” Thor points out mildly, and Loki shoves a pillow in his face as he rises.

The next day, Loki takes the longest shower he thinks he’s ever had in his life and scrubs the remnants of birth off of him until his blue skin glows indigo in patches. When he steps out into the main room naked, as he has grown comfortable enough to do in the past few months, Thor looks up from where he’s diapering Noma and gives a faux-scandalized gasp.

“Not in front of the children!” He bemoans, putting a hand over Noma’s eyes as if to shield her. She grunts a bit and flops her legs about.

“If you think that’s bad, just wait until I stab you in front of the child,” Loki grouses as he dresses, casting an absent-minded drying charm on his hair and body.

Thor scoops the baby up after he’s done fastening her diaper and takes the soiled one in his other hand, scrunching his face up and holding it as far away from himself as possible. Loki’s come to quickly learn that Thor is absolutely perfect at diapering their child. Loki doesn’t have a clue how to do it, he tried four separate times this morning before he gave up and called Thor to come do it.

“Put it in the sink, I’ll wash it,” Loki says, figuring that this will have to be his end of the bargain if he makes Thor change all of the dirty diapers.

They’re to formally announce the babe’s birth in a half-hour, and Loki fiddles about with a few outfits whilst Thor lays on the floor and blows raspberries on Noma’s belly. He’s lost a bit of the bump now, but not in its entirety, and Loki feels a bit of pride when he manages to fit into one of his own tunics for the first time in a while.

He turns back to Thor and their baby just in time to see Noma kick the Thunderer square in the chin, and Thor gives an exaggerated moan and rolls away like he’s been sucker-punched. The babe gurgles as Loki goes to pick her up, amused.

“The mighty Thor, bested by a mere babe,” Loki says, tucking Noma under his chin. “This is one for the history books.”

“My pride is shattered,” Thor bemoans. “Just crown her ruler of Asgard, I can never show my face to the people again.” He grunts as Loki kicks at his stomach softly.

“Get up, you sore loser,” He teases. “We have a people to address.”

The common room is filled to the brim with people, more, Loki thinks, than he’s ever seen at one of Thor’s announcements. Word of Noma’s birth has obviously passed quickly through the ship. The excited buzz dies down as they enter, preceded by Heimdall, who had insisted upon announcing their daughter’s birth as he had announced Thor’s and Loki’s before her.

“The royal family of Asgard,” The gatekeeper announces, bringing his staff down to the ground with a mighty bang that quiets the remaining chatter. “And announcing the birth of Noma Lokidóttir, firstborn and heir apparent to the throne of Asgard.”

Loki passes Noma to Thor, who carefully takes her under each arm and lifts her to the people so that all may see. Their daughter kicks a bit and gurgles, which apparently seems as good a time as any for the room to burst into applause.

They’re immediately swarmed by adults and children alike, all eager to get a close-up look at the baby, some wanting to hold her. Loki is terribly picky about who he allows to cradle his child, managing to smoothly avoid those who he finds a little lacking in…gentleness. Eldotta and Valencia are immediately allowed to hold the baby, along with the healers, Asmund, Turid, Eira, and even Arvid and Gyra. Taavi and a few of the older children are also allowed to cradle Noma, though Loki squats down with them and makes sure he keeps an arm under the babe at all times.

When Banner approaches, he is noticeably without his seemingly attached-at-the-hip warrior. While Thor carefully shows Banner how to properly hold Noma (the scientist chatters nervously the entire time), Loki scans the room until he finds Valkyrie standing at the back, leaning against a wall. She catches his gaze and nods at him, and he returns it after a moment. Ah, Hels. He’s in a good mood.

Banner holds the babe for a whole of about thirty seconds before passing her back to Thor, murmuring about how babies are “so fragile and breakable.” Loki retrieves her from Thor’s arms before heading down the steps, assuring the crowd of people he’ll returns shortly as he crosses the room.

“You get a minute,” He says when he arrives at Valkyrie’s side, carefully holding Noma out towards her. “I’ll be counting. It starts now.”

The warrior blinks, surprised, before she tenderly takes the child and holds her to her chest. A quick glance back at Thor finds him conversing with Heimdall, but he’s got a gaze on Loki from the corner of his eye and the sides of his mouth are lifted in a smile.

He takes Noma back after precisely sixty seconds (he was counting, after all), and Valkyrie hastily blinks something suspiciously misty from her eyes before giving him a nod of thanks. Loki returns it before turning to go back to Thor’s side.

What follows is nothing less than a week of feasting and partying (to the best of their abilities and limited supplies, that is). It mainly ends up manifesting in the form of the people taking their meals together in the common rooms and remaining to converse and play games with each other after. If the whole family isn’t present, either Thor or Loki remains with the festivities whilst the other takes Noma to be fed or changed or put down for a nap.

Three weeks later and a month after Noma’s birth, Thor and Loki are married privately under the stars. Heimdall oversees the ceremony, as he is one of the last remaining ordained to do so. Loki holds Noma in one arm and holds Thor’s hand with the other, and they share private vows that only Heimdall and the universe are witness to. After, Loki retrieves his rituals tome and the dagger Thor had gifted him with, and they share blood in the Jötunn marriage tradition that is outlined in its pages.

“Must I accompany you back to your rooms with a torch, as I did your parents?” Heimdall asks once they are done, and Thor chuckles deeply and gives him a friendly clasp on the shoulder.

“Since that was to ensure consummation of the marriage, I think we are already far past that point,” He jokes. Noma babbles at them brightly.

The public celebration follows the next day, in which another three days of merrymaking begin. Loki doesn’t think he’s seen this much celebrating in his whole life. The Asgardians are nothing if not a joyful lot of people, though.

The next two months are incredibly busy. Whilst Loki and Thor are learning to be new parents, they are also rulers who are preparing for their upcoming arrival on Midgard. At least one of them has to be at the helm at all times, making preparations. They haven’t been able to establish communication with any of Thor’s earthly friends, so it’s integral that their entry into the planet’s atmosphere goes smoothly. If not, they risk being shot out of the sky. Midgardians are particularly suspicious of large, alien spacecraft (Loki is partially to blame for this).

“I can’t do it,” Loki says, and sits back, defeated. Noma, now two months old, smiles at him.

“Ah-ah,” She says, and Loki hangs his head.

“Don’t give up,” Valencia soothes, straightening the cloth diaper back out. “You’ll get it, I promise. You just have to practice; you can’t just keep having your husband do it.”

“But he’s good at it,” Loki gripes, before sitting back up and taking the diaper in his hands again. This time, he successfully gets it secured around Noma’s left leg before it becomes a veritable tangled mess again.

“See! You’re getting closer,” Valencia praises, and Loki groans.

For how good Thor is at changing diapers, he is absolutely terrible at soothing Noma when she starts to fuss. Just the barest hint of tears and his husband panics, holding the babe out towards Loki like she’s some sort of armed explosive.

“You’re afraid,” Loki says one day, after he’s got Noma soothed against his chest. “Of our two-month-old daughter.”

“I’m not afraid!” Thor defends. “She just…she hates me,” He says miserably, and Loki shakes his head.

“She doesn’t hate you, you oaf.” And Loki passes the babe to Thor, ignoring his weak protests. “Look here. Make that ridiculous face you always make.”

Thor actually _pouts_ at Loki for a moment before he looks down at his daughter’s wide brown eyes, sticking his tongue out and crossing his remaining eye at his nose.

The babe breaks out into a gummy smile, and she babbles up at her father happily. Loki gives Thor a look that says _I told you so_ before cuffing him lightly about the ear.

“Now stop feeling sorry for yourself. She loves you, and you’re being ridiculous.”

Neither of them get much sleep, between the preparations for arrival and the baby. Noma has _absolutely_ inherited Thor’s appetite, and Loki often has to wake at least three times a night to feed her. By the third month he’s learned to distinguish between her cries, though, and when he’s awoken to the sound of her soiled diaper or just generally fussy cry, he kicks Thor out of bed to deal with it. He wakes in the morning more than once to find his husband asleep in the chair across the room, with Noma dozing open-mouthed on his chest. Loki often sits and watches them dream for a bit, reflecting on just how he managed to get here.

Noma is three and a half months old when they cross the warp point that will deposit them at Midgard. The whole ship gathers in the common room to watch as the stars blur into swaths of light about them, and then, suddenly, a planet of blue and green and white appears past the windows. Banner takes the helm, as he is the most familiar with Earth’s atmosphere, and begins the descent.

They’re ensconced in the clouds when an alarm goes off again, and Loki’s heart leaps into his throat until he realizes it’s only the incoming communication indicator. Banner hits the button, and the screen fizzes and pops before a very annoyed man of Iron pops up on the display.

“Excuse—what the hell?” He sputters after a moment, taking in the scene that must be displayed before him. “Bruce? Point Break? _Mister Freeze?”_ And Loki gives him the eye, tucking Noma closer to his chest. He was never one of Stark’s fans.

“I know we have a lot of explaining to do—“ Thor begins, and Stark scoffs.

“Uh, _yeah!_ ”

“But onboard this vessel are the remaining members of my people. They seek sanctuary. May we be permitted to land?”

Stark blinks at them through the screen, and the cogs turning in his head are visible on his face. “What a dumb question,” He says after a moment. “Of course you can land. I’ll send you the coordinates for the new base. I don’t know if we have enough room for that many people, but we’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you,” Thor says, and Stark flaps his hand at him until the image fizzles out.

They land not long after. After they make sure that every person onboard is accounted for, Loki and Thor take their place in front of the crowd of people, arms linked.

“Are you ready?” Thor asks him softly, and Loki gathers Noma close to his chest.

“Together,” He says to Thor, and his husband nods.

“Together,” He repeats, and presses the release to the ship’s main doors.

As light pours in the entrance, Loki braces himself for what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then Thanos never shows up and everyone lives happily ever after on Midgard. The end.
> 
> Jeez, guys! I can’t believe it’s over! When I first started writing this fic, I intended for chapter one to be a one-shot, but I had so much fun writing it that I thought, hey, why not write another? And another, and another! And suddenly, here we are, seven chapters later. Thank you all so much for reading. This really has been a wonderful learning experience for me. I appreciate all of the comments, critiques and suggestions I’ve received along the way. I know chapter three ended up being quite a mess for a while, but I appreciate those of you who stuck it out with me through my process of figuring out what I wanted from my writing and continued to inspire me as I kept writing. I can’t thank y’all enough!! 
> 
> I wish everyone nothing but happiness in the new year. I will strive to keep writing in 2018! I already have two one-shot ideas lined up, and a couple paragraphs of one of them written. My niche in this fandom is actually Pre!Thor Thorki (though everything I’ve published so far has been Ragnarök!) So expect to see some of that coming your way soon. I’d also like to some day dive into Noma’s character as she grows, so maybe expect to see a little spin-off eventually ;)
> 
> So, for now, thanks again! You all are my reason to keep writing.
> 
> Also, what the hell, I made a writing blog. Come visit me on tegary.tumblr.com. I'll post writing updates there, and you're welcome to prompt me!


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